


Beautifully Broken

by twilightsorrow



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Kim Jongin | Kai, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Top Do Kyungsoo | D.O
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-26 10:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 70,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20388172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightsorrow/pseuds/twilightsorrow
Summary: (DISCONTINUED) There is no light in the tunnel Jongin has been stuck in his whole life. No openings that sparked something. So when a mysterious light begins flickering in the distance, calling for Jongin, pulling him in, he tries to keep away, not knowing that going to the light would change his life drastically.





	1. Prologue

Kyungsoo looked around his now empty room, his things that had been packed away into boxes being carried out by the moving helpers. The only things that remained in his room that showed that he had once spent hours on end in this room were the last of the boxes that the moving helpers hadn't taken yet, and the wall colour that Kyungsoo had chosen for his bedroom: light blue. His favourite colour wasn't light blue at all, but there was something about the colour that was relaxing, calming to say the least. 

He hadn't really been looking forward to the move away from his parents, but his parents had told him that he was mature enough to live alone and to call whenever he needed anything. He wasn't all too fond of leaving his parents behind and taking the first step to living alone, but his parents had reassured him, telling him they would be fine. Kyungsoo hoped so. 

If his parents were fine, then Kyungsoo would be okay. Living alone would be fine for him; he could clean the house and do his own laundry and cook. He was pretty well-off.

The moving helpers came back upstairs and took the last of the boxes before making their way down the stairs with the heavy duct-taped boxes. 

Huffing, he sat down on the wooden floor. An overwhelming wave of sadness hit him as he took a look at his empty room. In his head, he envisioned where his bed used to be, against the back wall, facing his drawer. Next to his bed would be his desk where he had spent hours on end studying for countless tests and doing assignments. The few awards he had won over the years for his academic skills would be on the shelf next to his desk. 

The thought had Kyungsoo grinning.

The dull sound of footsteps coming up the stairs resonated in the hall before Kyungsoo's father walked into Kyungsoo's room to see his son sitting on the floor, dazed. "Kyungsoo, what are you doing? The moving truck's going to leave anytime soon. Don't you want to leave with it so you can get there at the same time?"

Kyungsoo let out a deep sigh. "In a moment."

Catching onto his son's exhale, Kyungsoo's father placed his hand on his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong? Do you not feel like moving?"

Kyungsoo shook his head, staring down at his hands. "No it's just...I'm going to miss this place. And you and mom."

To this, his father laughed and sat next to his son. "Kyungsoo, you're not going to the military here. And it's not like Seoul is on the other side of the earth. You can always come and visit on the weekends or whenever you feel like it."

His father was right. It wasn't like Seoul was a year away; he could always visit when he wanted to, and yet Kyungsoo still liked to be difficult sometimes. But only to his parents. He only ever revealed his childish side to his parents. 

In the end, Kyungsoo finally forced himself off the ground and, with his bag full of necessities in hand, followed his father downstairs, where his mother was waiting by the front door. She had a tissue in her hand, wiping away the tears collected at the bottom of her eyes. Leave it to his mother to be the emotional one in his family.

Before Kyungsoo stepped out the door, his shoes already slipped onto his feet, his mother cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead, much to Kyungsoo's embarrassment. He wasn't a five-year-old anymore. "I can't believe my baby is already so grown-up. Look at you, already going to move into your own apartment and live on your own."

Kyungsoo tried to pry his mother's hands away from his face while his father stood off to the side, sighing in defeat at his wife. "And now I'm really questioning whether Kyungsoo is supposed to be going to the military or to Seoul."

His mother threw a glare at her husband. "Shut up, you. Your son is moving away to Seoul and you can't be a _little_ emotional?"

"Seoul is our next-door neighbour. There's no need to cry it all out now when we're literally going to be able to see him every week."

Kyungsoo's mother gawked at his father before looking back at Kyungsoo and brushing his fringe out of his eyes. "Don't mind him, sweetie, we'll miss you lots so you better come and visit, okay?"

"Yes, yes, don't worry. I'm going to come every weekend so you guys don't get lonely." 

Kyungsoo's mother positively cooed at that while trying to hold back more tears. At that, Kyungsoo had to roll his eyes. It was as if he were moving away to study abroad or something, not attend a high school in another city. 

With much difficulty, Kyungsoo finally got his mother to let him go and he made his way to his car, car keys in hand. The large moving truck still sat in the driveway, waiting on him. Hoping into his car, Kyungsoo started the engine, throwing his black bag onto the passenger seat next to him. He backed out of the driveway, threw a glance at his parents with one last wave, and drove off, the moving truck on his tail. 

Kyungsoo opened up the compartment in between the front seats and pulled out his GPS, struggling to type in the address with one hand and keep steering with the another, his eyes darting back and forth between the GPS and the road. Finally getting the location in, he placed the GPS on the window, the suction on the back of the GPS holding it firmly in place.

And this was it, Kyungsoo realized. He was now off to live on his own in another city that he had only ever visited twice in his life. He was going to attend high school on his own and construct a new lifestyle for himself. 

He was actually excited. He couldn't wait to see what the future had in store for him. 


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW//abuse

It was the whispers again. The ones that seemed to be all around him. The ones that bounced off the walls and got engraved in his brain and echoed in his ears over and over again, playing through his mind all day. They were never anything good. Jongin was used to it already, though. He heard it everyday. But that didn't change the fact that it made him uncomfortable. 

"God, why does he always look like that?"

"Why does he even come to school? It's not like he even does shit here."

"Wait, he still goes to this school?"

"Our school looks bad because of him."

"Fucking ugly."

"He looks pathetic."

Jongin froze in his spot in the middle of the hallway. He could feel everyone's eyes boring into him and he tightened the grip he had on the strap of his backpack. There was that word again. _Pathetic_. He dug his teeth into the flesh on the inside of his cheek, an old habit that he had since he was younger and felt like crying. But it wasn't like he had any tears right now. 

He had learned to shut out the voices of others around him. It wasn't as if he was really paying attention to them.

Silently, Jongin dragged his legs behind him to his first class. He was late. It wasn't like it was the first time he had come after the bell. It was difficult for him to get up in the mornings, but it wasn't because he was still tired and he needed more sleep, like the other kids his age. He pushed the door to his first class open. The lesson seemed to have already started, but Ms. Lee, his math teacher, stopped talking the moment Jongin walked in.

Disapproval was scribbled over her face. "Late again, I see. We're really going to have to work on getting here on time, Jongin. I let it slide the first couple of times, but you do this again and I'm really going to have to call in your parents to tell them that you need to be here on time."

Some of the students giggled. "'Call his parents.' What is he, a kid?" Jongin couldn't even see why they would find it funny. And there was no point in calling his father. He didn't care, anyways. Why would he? He never had, and he never will care what Jongin was doing with his life. 

"Take a seat," Ms. Lee sighed, and Jongin's fingernails dug into the straps of his bag as he crossed the front of the class to get to his seat at the very back of the class. "And Jongin, do something about your face. I don't want you showing up in my class with another bruise."

A student snorted and everyone joined in before Ms. Lee had them shut up. Jongin threw his bag down by his desk and plopped into his chair. 

If only she knew.

~~~

As always, Jongin took no lunch from the cafeteria and just sat himself down under the large tree behind the school. He was never really hungry, anyways, and even if he did feel hungry, he knew his stomach wouldn't be able to hold the food in properly, so he just sucked it up and didn't eat. 

Other students would probably shove one another under this tree while eating their lunches—Jongin had seen them doing that many times when they had beat him to the spot under the tree. They always looked so cheerful and happy, like they were having the time of their lives just messing around with one another. _Happiness_. The word made Jongin feel sour on the inside. When was the last he had messed around with his friends? When was the last time he had even felt happy? Years, _years _ago, that's for sure. 

He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the trunk of the tree, the bark jabbing the back of his skull uncomfortably, but Jongin barely even felt it. It was just numbing pain that distracted him from everything that flew around in his mind. 

He hated the chatter of the students in school. He hated the crowded hallways and the droning voices of the teachers. They didn't understand what pain was like yet. It was written all over their faces. The bright, cheerful way they all spoke, it was obvious they had it easy. Just like the other students, Jongin wished his only worry was flunking the science test the week after, or he wished he cared about homework enough to pull all-nighters. He hated everything about school; it contained everything that he could never be and could never have. 

Yet, it was better than being at home. At least at school, out in the field, he could be alone. Even for a little while, he could close his eyes and pretend he was someone who was actually worth something. But wishing for someone to care for him, to notice him, to see him as worth something, he didn't bother. There was no point wasting his energy on thoughts like that. There was no reason to build up hope, only for it to come crumbling down on him.

As he watched a group of friends walk by, his heart clenched with want. But he immediately stamped down the feeling, disgusted with himself. _Want_. It was such a useless feeling. It just made people miserable—fussing over something they couldn't have. 

He didn't belong here in this school—didn't fit in with the people with so much potential and bright futures ahead of them. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He made the school look bad, he knew that. He always heard the students whispering about it in the hallways, and he overheard the teachers saying it, too. The only reason why he wasn't expelled yet was because the teachers pitied him. And he hated being looked down upon. He just wished people wouldn't care about him. He wished people would leave him alone and let him hurt on his own. 

It wasn't like there was anyone out there who could understand him, anyway. 

A hollow-feeling pain punched his stomach, and he pressed a hand to it. It wasn't an unusual feeling; he got this feeling a lot—this feeling that told him to eat something. He hadn't eaten in awhile. To be honest, he didn't remember when he had eaten last. Maybe it was last night, but he doubted that, and he knew he hadn't eaten this morning. 

But he was tired. He didn't want to move, to push himself up and walk to a nearby store just for food. So he tried to sleep instead. Maybe then, he would forget everything for just a little while.

~~~

_The dark room. The broken beer bottle a few feet away from him. This dream was no stranger to Jongin. He knew what was about to happen next, and as always, he was never ready for it. It was a room with no door, no windows. Heavy footsteps resonated from the hallway, as if the person was dragging their feet along, but the echoing of the steps came from every direction. Jongin didn't know which direction to anticipate an attack from; the footsteps were everywhere, surrounding him and rendering him vulnerable. His hands tightly gripped the chair he was seated in. The hardness and the rough texture wasn't plastic; it was wooden. _

_The violent beating of his heart against his ribcage shattered the sound of the footsteps, mixing the two sounds together._

_And then it grew silent. No footsteps. Only his laboured breathing. His own heartbeat echoed in his ears, his shaky breath seeming loud in the deadly silent room._

_It happened all too fast, and suddenly, the ground was opening up beneath him, and he was falling._

_He gasped for breath, but the farther gravity pulled him down into the dark abyss, the harder it was for him to breathe. His jaw dropped as he tried to scream, but the only sound he could produce was choked up. Out of nowhere, his throat felt like it was being squeezed by calloused hands. He felt the remaining air in his lungs get pushed out, and then he was choking. He couldn't inhale, nor could he exhale. Uselessly, he grappled at the air to find something to grab hold of, only for the breeze to slip right through his fingertips. His lungs tightened as he clawed at his throat, trying to pry the invisible hands away, but they just tightened their hold. Slowly, Jongin felt his fingers go numb and his arm fall slack as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his gaping mouth putting in the effort to inhale one last time..._

And he jolted upright, heaving. Sweat was gathered at his temples, his uniform clinging to his back. The fast rhythm of his racing heart pounded in his eardrums. He gulped in as much air as he could, but the hands still felt like they were wrapped around his throat, squeezing the air out of him. As much as he inhaled, he couldn't exhale, and he coughed as his tingling fingers grasped the front of his shirt. Scrambling, he unzipped his bag and pulled out a paper bag before inhaling into it and then exhaling. 

It was another one of his panic attacks. They didn't happen so often, but they weren't a stranger. He was thankful for carrying around a paper bag; he never knew when the attacks would hit. 

He gingerly placed a hand on his throat. The hands had felt so real, so rough against his skin, and for a moment, he had mistaken whether it was truly a dream or not. 

His head fell in his hands and he lifted up his shirt, wiping away the collected sweat on his forehead. Feeling his rapidly beating heart slow down until it was back at its normal tempo, Jongin sighed and leaned his head back against the bark of the tree on a more comfortable angle. 

His phone read that it was 6:12 PM; he had slept through all of lunch and his last two classes. There was no point in staying at school anymore, not when he had no more business here. 

With one hand resting on the rough bark of the tree for support, Jongin stood up, his legs wobbling slightly from being asleep for awhile. Grabbing the strap of his bag, he flung it over his shoulder and began leaving the school property. There were barely any cars left in the parking lot, and the only ones that were there were probably students who were studying in the library and some teachers who stayed behind to grade papers. 

A light breeze ran through his body, ruffling up his overgrown hair. For a long time now, he'd been growing out his hair until his bangs covered his eyes. It was easier that way; he didn't have to see the faces of others. It didn't shut out the slapping words of other students, but at least he didn't have to see the looks on their faces when they spoke about him. Growing out his hair didn't make him feel confident, but it helped him hide from the world. It gave him a bit more room to breathe.

Jongin didn't own a car—that kind of luxury didn't exist for him—so he had to walk. It wasn't anything unusual, though. He got stared at quite a bit, not just for his hair but also because of the bruises lying underneath his eyes. The only time walking was made nice was when he woke up in a cold sweat early in the morning and decided to go for a walk because there was no point in trying to fall back asleep. Early in the morning, there were barely any cars on the road and no one on the streets, leaving Jongin to freely roam around and get some fresh air without being stared at obnoxiously. 

Where he lived wasn't that far from the school. It was in a neglected part of the city where people rarely ever visited—where they all tried to stay away from. There was never construction there to fix the cracked cement sidewalks or the shabby, one bedroom places that were all connected that couldn't be referred to as a home. 

Jongin strolled into an alleyway—the shortest way to get to where he lived. It was dark as usual despite the sun still being up, with a trash can kicked over, its contents spilling out onto the gravel, and a couple empty glass bottles lying next to discarded newspapers. A stray cat sat atop the newspapers, its keen eyes boring into Jongin's before mewling and scampering off in the other direction.

Out of habit, Jongin's foot came in contact with a cola can, sending it flying through the alley and landing in its new location for the time being until someone else like him came around and kicked it elsewhere. 

Trudging to the end of the alleyway, he was lead to the road that would take him straight to his place. As always, it was deserted, the only sound echoing down the path being his own footsteps. 

Where he stayed was at the far end of the road, in the very corner. He passed the brick wall that was beginning to crumble with age and stepped over to his place, the dry, dead grass crunching and the glass shards cracking under his feet with each step. 

Pausing in front of the door, Jongin reached for the doorknob, until his fingers stopped inches away. 

Was his father home right now? He wasn't, right? But his father didn't do anything else, so then that must mean he was in there. Jongin didn't want to go in there. He didn't want to face his father. 

Just a bit longer. He wanted to stay away just a bit longer. He'd face him later, but not now. 

Jongin stepped away from the door and strolled out of the front yard, away from the small, crumbling apartment, its eerie dark grey walls fading into the distance as Jongin headed back in the direction from where he had come.

He exited the alley and headed down the street, passing by a convenience store. His stomach seemed to respond immediately, aching and growling with the want for something to eat. Despite knowing he probably wouldn't be able to keep the food down properly, the chocolate bars on the shelves that he could see through the glass were slightly tempting. He felt around in his pocket, hoping he could find some spare change. Luckily, there was a 5,000 won laying around at the bottom of his bag—one that he had tucked away so that his father wouldn't find it to use for beer again. 

Pushing open the door to the convenience store, he kept his head low, refusing to make eye contact with the part-time worker who was working as a cashier. He headed over to the row of shelves where the chocolate bars were and grabbed two snicker bars and placed them in front of the cashier. 

"Now that comes to a total of 4,500 won," the cashier said. He seemed to be a few years older than Jongin, maybe in college. He took the 5,000 won from Jongin's hand and handed him the change. 

Jongin was about to leave, but then he thought, where would he even go from here? There was nowhere to go but back to his place, but he didn't want to be there. Later. And it wasn't like he had friends he could hang out with or a special place that washed him with relaxation. 

He looked back at the convenience store, and barely looked at the part-timer as he said, "Excuse me, is it okay if I stay here?"

The part-timer seemed taken aback, not sure how he was supposed to respond to that, though in the end, he nodded while stuttering out a "sure." 

His hand falling from the door, Jongin held onto the strap of his bag as he headed to the very back of the convenience store and sat himself down next to the store fridge. Throwing one of the bars into his bag, Jongin opened the one in his hand and bit into it. His empty stomach rumbled in appreciation as the sweet, creamy bar melted in his mouth and began to settle in his stomach. His bites were slow, unhurried, as if he had temporarily forgotten how to chew. 

Taking the last bite out of his chocolate bar, he tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can. The sweet taste of the bar lingered on his tongue, his stomach no longer feeling empty or hollow, and Jongin was tempted to take the other bar out of his bag, but he stopped himself. He wanted to save it for some other time; no one knew when he'd get another opportunity to eat like this without growing nauseous.

Sighing, he leaned his head back against the hard white wall and let his eyes fall shut. The silence in the store and the whirring of the fan overhead was beginning to slowly lull him to sleep. His long, restless sleep from earlier was still weighing on his shoulders, trying to pull him back to sleep. A hopefully better sleep. 

Just as Jongin was getting comfortable, his breath slowly setting itself a normal pace...

The store door flung open, the force of the push sending the door flying and hitting the wall, startling Jongin in his spot, all traces of sleep flying away like a flock of birds for the time being. Multiple, heavy footsteps rang out through the store, and from what little Jongin was able to see, they were all wearing boots only for men.

One of them, his hair dyed a fading blond, smacked his lips together, chewing his gum obnoxiously loud. Jongin groaned—people chewing their gum ridiculously loud always had his muscles going tense. 

The one chewing the gum slammed his hand down on the counter, causing the part-timer to jump and curl in on himself. "Long time no see, sweetheart. Told you I'd come visit, didn't I?"

So that was the college kid's boyfriend then, it seemed. But then, why did the part-timer seem so stiff, as if he had just been shocked? _Whatever_, Jongin thought. It had nothing to do with him. He had always stayed out of people's way and never butted into situations where he didn't belong. This time would be no different. 

A different voice spoke this time—one of the other guys who had come in. Jongin recognized guys like him from anywhere; definitely a guy who hung around in the alleys with his friends. "So where's the money we asked for?" The college student's face paled, his eyes growing wide as they darted back and forth. 

The first one caught onto the part-timer's anxious movements and laughed in disbelief. "Don't tell me you forgot we would come today?" When his eyes weren't met, he grew frustrated and leaned over to grab the part-timer by the collar. "Look at me, you fucking bastard. You owe us, do you not?" 

The part-timer nodded frantically, shaking in fear. "S-Sorry, I didn't h-have much to do recently so I wasn't a-able to get much money together."

"Get over here right now," the blond guy said, pulling the part-timer around the counter by his collar until they were eye-level, the blondie's build and height making the college student look tiny, a complete half head shorter than the other. "You disgusting fag couldn't even scrape up that little amount of cash we asked for? We were even generous and lowered the cost from the usual."

Although Jongin had tried to do everything he could to block them out and pretend he wasn't there, he couldn't help but be curious. He tilted his head to the side just in time to see the part-timer get shoved into the shelves, knocking down bags of chips and gummies. Something seemed to crack within Jongin when he saw this, but with his fists clenched by his sides, he tried to stay true to his word. He wasn't going to involve himself in someone else's problem. _He wouldn't_—_shouldn't_. 

But something was clawing at him to do something, especially as he watched the gang throw a punch at the poor part-timer who was able to nothing but sit there, knowing he stood no chance against all of them together. 

When the blond one up at the front sent a kick flying into the poor part-timer's stomach, Jongin finally snapped. Dragging his legs, he stood up and made his presence known, the gang stopping their movements upon seeing a stranger. 

Jongin chanced a glance at the part-timer with a purple bruise on his swollen cheek. "You look horrible. Go wash up or something."

The blondie scoffed, looking back at his friends before giving Jongin a once-over. "And who the fuck are you supposed to be?"

"Nobody that concerns you," Jongin replied, catching the blond's eye through his overgrown bangs. 

The blond's other friend whispered something into the blond's ear, and the blond, without breaking eye contact with Jongin, said, "Go ahead."

~~~

Jongin coughed, his cheek throbbing and his side aching, no doubt bruised already. The blond landed one more kick to Jongin's stomach right where his uniform, dirtied with muddy bootprints, had ridden up, the hardest kick out of all of them, his heavy boot digging into Jongin's side. His eyes widening, Jongin choked, feeling like his ribs had just shattered as a bullet of pain exploded in his side. Inhaling shakily, he fought the urge to twitch at the clenching pain. 

From what Jongin could make out through his fuzzy vision, the convenience store swung open and the pairs of boots retreated. Time ticked by—whether it was a few seconds or a few minutes—before Jongin finally found the energy to move, ignoring the zap of pain that shot up his side as he dragged his feet up to stand. He braced himself with a hand on the shelf to steady his trembling weak legs. 

Upon seeing Jongin struggling to strand up, the part-timer, who had been cowering in the corner, uncertain of what he should do, ran over to Jongin and grabbed his arm, helping him steady himself.

"I—I'm really sorry about this, and I'm r-really thankful for what you did and—" the part-timer began rambling, face flushed from embarrassment and numerous apologies swimming in his eyes. 

Jongin slowly pulled his arm away from the part-timer's hold. "Whatever." He picked his bag up from the back of the convenience store, ignoring the worker's worried look as he hobbled out of the store and down the alleyway to his place.

It was almost 8:30 PM. It was really late; his father wasn't going to be pleased. 

Trudging down the same alleyway that he had been down a million times, Jongin tried to hide his eyes by brushing his bangs out along his forehead, tried to dust off the bootprints on his crumpled uniform that would take a while to wash out with his hands. 

He approached his rundown place again, staring at the cracked wooden door that was loose on its hinges. 

His father would be in there drinking again. He was always drinking—always drunk. Always had been, but it got worse when his mother had run away. Even earlier on in his parent's marriage, Jongin's father was abusive, yet his mother hadn't been able to bring herself to leave when Jongin was just born. But when Jongin had reached the age of seven, his mother couldn't take it anymore. Just packed up and left the house overnight without a single word. And when Jongin's mother had left, that was when his father had turned to him to abuse, and it got worse as he got older. 

To be honest, Jongin resented his mother a bit. Resented her for not loving him enough to take him with her. Resented her for leaving him behind and only thinking about herself. Resented her for leaving him in the hands of a monster. And he resented her for being stupid enough to marry a heartless demon.

It was gonna happen again tonight. He was going to get at least a kick or two tonight, Jongin knew it. He got it yesterday and the night before. Tonight would be no different. 

He lifted the pot of wilted flowers on the dried grass and fished the extra copy of the house key from underneath it. Unlocking the door, he pushed it in, the door squeaking as it easily swung open. 

The overpowering smell of heavy alcohol hit Jongin's nostrils the moment he stepped in, dirty clothes thrown on the sad excuse for a couch and worn-out shoes unceremoniously tossed about in front of the door. 

The small round table next to the ripped, old couch was stacked with green glass soju bottles and sitting in the chair pulled up at the mini table was his father. He lifted the green bottle to his lips and tipped it back, half of its contents spilling down his worn-out button-down. He was tipsy—actually, probably drunk completely. Jongin couldn't remember a time where his father was actually sober. 

Upon hearing the thump of Jongin's bag hitting the floor, his father turned his head, sneering as he took in the sight of his son. "Hey, bitch, do you even know what time it is? The fuck makes you think you can just walk in here late, huh?" his father slurred, his eyes threatening to fall shut as he tipped the soju bottle back again. 

Jongin tried to wordlessly escape to his room, speed-walking, but an empty soju bottle came smashing down on Jongin's temple, the bottle shattering into a million shards. Gasping, Jongin staggered a bit before he was grabbed by the hair and tugged so hard he was sent flying onto the hard wooden floor. 

"How many times have I told you to come _early_?" his father spat through his teeth, his foot coming in contact with Jongin's stomach. Jongin gagged and coughed, but not before another one was sent his way, landing right where his worst bruise was—the last kick the blond had given him, right on his ribcage. "You ugly, disgusting, worthless son of a bitch. Can't even follow simple rules, you bastard."

There were more kicks until his father stopped to grab another empty soju bottle on the table. By now, Jongin knew to stay quiet than to scream, even when the alcohol bottle came in contact with his skin, leaving deep gashes that were oozing out blood.

"You fucking disgrace. You never should've been fucking born, you stupid piece of shit." There was another kick to Jongin's ribs. That was added to the number of blooming bruises on his side. 

Others would cry. Some would wail. They would even scream for help. But when Jongin opened his mouth, no sound came out. He had no tears. All he felt was emptiness. 

Over the years, he learned that making any sound was a sign of weakness. Crying, complaining, groaning in pain, they were signs of weakness. And his father hated weak—it would earn him another round of beating. Jongin had learned this the hard way when he was younger, when he was still small and fragile and couldn't handle a simple kick. So he stopped showing reaction, stopping showing _weakness_. He built a wall and locked himself in because if he did that, then he wouldn't feel anything. Wouldn't be seen. If he was obedient and took it all, then he would be strong, wouldn't be seen as weak.

His father seemed to have tired himself out because the kicks finally stopped. Throwing a glance at the still body by his feet, his father mumbled, "Fucking pathetic," before he hobbled over to his room and slammed the door. 

Once he heard a body hit the mattress, Jongin finally began pushing himself up onto his two feet. He took in a sharp breath, and doubled over as a knife of pain stabbed his side, and he clutched the side of his stomach where the blondie and his father had both kicked. He tried inhaling again, only to be met with the same ache. His chest began whistling each time he breathed in.

The blond guy's boot had done something to his ribs. Jongin could feel it. It wasn't normal for his ribcage to ache every time he inhaled. It wasn't just simply bruised; it was probably fractured. There was no other reason as to why his side would hurt so much. Jongin shouldn't be surprised—the boot had been pretty big and heavy. 

But what was Jongin supposed to do? Go to the hospital? He didn't have money for the hospital bill. 

Stumbling into the tiny bathroom as best he could, each step and breath he took painful, Jongin peeled off his dirty uniform and tossed it in the bathtub. He had to get the muddy prints off because he couldn't walk into the school building with a dirty shirt. Everything had to be hand washed; they couldn't afford a washing machine. 

He quickly and clumsily rubbed the prints off before throwing his uniform on the side of the bathtub to dry off. He found a bandaid lying around by the sink and washed off the slightly dried blood on his temple where his father had hit him with the bottle and sealed it off with the bandaid.

Pushing open the door to his bedroom, Jongin stepped in and plopped down on his mattress on the floor, landing on a pile of clothes. The cheap full-length body mirror, its edges all rusty and dusty, stood in the corner of his room, but Jongin didn't go over to it. He didn't have to look; he knew he looked awful. He didn't remember the last time he had checked his appearance in the mirror, had tried to fix up his tousled look. In all honesty, he avoided looking at himself. Didn't want to see the hideous monster staring back at him. 

His eyelids drooping, his heavy body sinking into the mattress, Jongin turned on the side that wasn't where the possibly fractured rib was and let his body go limp, passing out instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I write chapters, I always make sure to have a minimum of 2500 words...but this chapter is over 5000 words; I completely doubled my own expectations. It wasn't supposed to be this long, I swear! I just couldn't stop writing and couldn't shorten it either so here we are. Anyways, I hope you will enjoy this new adventure as much as I will.


	3. Chapter 2

Jongin woke up from his restless sleep feeling nauseous, his insides churning and his food forcing itself up. Covering his mouth with his hand, Jongin stood up from the bed, exhaling carefully with a hand pressed to his bruised side. 

His bedroom door flew open as he bolted to the bathroom and kneeled in front of the toilet. Holding his stomach, his jaw dropped open as he began heaving into the toilet, the chocolate bar he had eaten yesterday being shoved up his throat. His eyes watered as he caught sight of the disgusting remnants of what he had eaten sloshing around in the toilet bowl. He felt sick again. He heaved the rest of what was in his stomach before flushing the toilet and rinsing his mouth of the gross taste. 

Once again, he avoided looking up at himself in the cracked, foggy mirror and wiped the droplets of water running down his chin, body trembling. His side now hurt more than it had yesterday, his breaths forced to come out quick and short in order to lessen the throbbing of his ribs against his side. A part of him wanted to see just how bad the bruise on his side was, but something told him that it wouldn't be the best option. 

His room wasn't bathed in the sunlight's warm glow; instead, the area was plunged into darkness, due to the absence of a window in the room. When Jongin turned on his phone, he expected it to say it was still late at night, maybe really early in the morning, but it read 8:20 AM. 

He was already late for school. He contemplated not going for one day, just skipping so he could take a break from everything, but something about missing school made him anxious. Made him feel all jittery in a bad way. 

Again, there was that familiar tightening in the pit of his stomach as it growled, wanting food. Plopping down on the floor beside his bed, he rummaged through his bag for the chocolate bar he had left in there at the very bottom. His fingers brushed a rectangular object, but when he pulled it out, the bar crumbled in his palm. It had completely melted, the bottom of his bag way too hot for the chocolate to last. 

Jongin stared at the melted bar in his hand, the only thing he could've eaten now gone, before tossing it onto his bed and slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

Glass bottle shards laid on the floor along the length of the hallway as well as by the round table out in the tiny living room. It seemed like a bigger mess compared to yesterday. His father's ripped shoes still sat in front of the door, which meant his father was sleeping, or else it wouldn't be this quiet in the house. 

Jongin slipped his feet into his shoes and left the house, locking the door behind him with the spare key before placing it in its place underneath the pot of flower that always sat in front of the house. 

Other students would run when they realized they were late for school, but Jongin was tired. His stomach was still churning from this morning's sickness and he was hungry. His legs barely had enough energy in them, each step he took weighted and wobbly. His body always seemed to wake up two hours after he did. His temple still ached from the blow of the glass bottle the night before. The bandaid, having gotten wet after Jongin had washed his face, was slowly beginning to peel off, its ends no longer sticky. His eyelids threatened to fall shut as he was chased down by the hours of sleep he had lost due to his restlessness. 

He passed by the convenience store from yesterday. When he looked inside, the part-timer was there again, his eye bruised and cheek swollen. But other than that, he looked okay. When a customer came up to the counter, the part-timer smiled—a genuine smile. 

Jongin let out a sigh of relief without realizing. At least the part-timer was okay.

Feeling eyes on him, the part-timer turned his head to the clear glass of the convenience store doors, and Jongin immediately sped away, refusing to be seen. 

The school not being too far away from his house, Jongin arrived pretty quickly. No one was outside, classes having started a while ago. His head down, he ruffled up his bangs so they would fall in front of his eyes and entered the building. A couple students still roamed around in the halls, none of them paying Jongin any mind. Ms. Lee was up front like she always was. Jongin scrambled into class through the door at the back of the class and bowed his head lower upon entering, Ms. Lee already on a topic.

She trailed off as she watched Jongin stroll in and plop down in his seat, folding his arms on the table and placing his head on them before sighing and continuing with what she was saying. "We have a new student here with us today who came from Goyang."

From what little Jongin could see through the small crack he had made with his arms, there was a boy standing next to Ms. Lee. He couldn't see his face, which Jongin didn't really care about. Whoever the new student was, he had nothing to do with Jongin and never would so there was no point checking who it was. 

"Why not introduce yourself to your new homeroom classmates?" his teacher said. God how Jongin wanted to plug his ears. His hazy, tired mind couldn't stand her voice so early in the morning. 

The new student bowed, his short ebony hair gently bouncing. "Hello, my name is Do Kyungsoo. I recently moved here from Goyang. Hope we can get along." His voice was so deep, so silky and smooth. Jongin heard a couple of the girls in the class swooning, the girl in front of him whispering to her friend about how hot he was. 

Jongin cringed. Girls were so weird, finding every guy they came across hot when they didn't even know each other. The majority of guys were just dicks. He didn't understand why girls only seemed to pay attention to a guy's looks. 

Deeming the new student—Jongin already forgot his name—boring, he buried his face in his arms again completely, shutting his eyes and trying to get some more sleep. He tried hard to drown out the voices of the other students until he heard—

"Kyungsoo, why don't you take a seat in the empty spot next to Jongin in the back?" This had Jongin's ears perking up, his eyes going wide in his arms as he began to panic. _No, no, no. Go away. Go away. Go away_. 

"Sure, Ms. Lee," the student—Kyungsoo—responded, and Jongin's breath hitched as his panic grew. The seat next to him had always been empty because no one wanted to sit next to Jongin, and that was how he liked it, but now someone was about to occupy it. His head came off his arm slightly as his shaky gaze watched Kyungsoo walk through the aisle between the desks to the desk next to Jongin. 

Jongin heard one of the girls mumble, "How could Ms. Lee place the new student next to _him_? I feel so bad for the new kid." Someone in the front row snickered, Ms. Lee completely oblivious to it, or she just didn't care. 

Kyungsoo obviously didn't hear because he looked Jongin's way, their eyes locking, and Jongin felt his eyes almost grow wide before he pulled on his poker face again. 

Now, he actually had a good look at the new student, despite one of his eyes still buried in his arm. Kyungsoo had raven black hair that was trimmed short and nicely styled to one side of his head. He looked small—definitely much shorter than Jongin by over an inch—but his build was anything but. His shoulders weren't the broadest—they weren't even that broad, actually—but his biceps looked like they were bulging in the school uniform's white collared shirt—his uniform jacket not on him since it was kind of warm outside, anyways—while prominent veins ran along his arms and on the back of his hand.

He glared at Kyungsoo, which didn't seem to faze him because he gave Jongin a small wave and a smile, his pearl-white teeth framed by full, pink lips that were pulled back into the shape of a heart. "Hey, I'm Kyungsoo. What's your name?" 

What the fuck? Was Kyungsoo stupid, or was he just pretending to be stupid? There was no way he could be so oblivious. Why did he even talk to him just now, when it was so clear that he was the class' outcast? The _school's_ outcast? It was written all over his body language, his _face_. One look at his overgrown hair, wrinkled uniform, dry lips, and bruised face gave it all away. Yet here Kyungsoo was, trying to talk to him. This was the first time any student had ever tried to talk to him, but maybe that was because Kyungsoo was the new student and he was in dire need of trying to find friends in this new environment. The moment he found friends, he would learn that Jongin was the last person he would ever want to be seen with and the one person he always had to stay away from. When that day came, Kyungsoo wouldn't be looking at Jongin the way he was now—his big doe eyes sparkling with kindness and respect, stars seeming to float around in his eyes. Jongin shook away the thought that Kyungsoo's eyes were one of the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

Jongin didn't want Kyungsoo to look at him like that. It was making him uncomfortable. Jongin's glare darkened and, his jaw setting, he looked the other way and buried his face in his arms again, hoping that his message got across loud and clear—that he didn't want to talk to Kyungsoo and didn't want Kyungsoo talking to him either. 

With his face turned, he didn't see Kyungsoo's reaction, but he assumed Kyungsoo gave it up since Ms. Lee had just begun talking about something that Jongin's tired mind couldn't comprehend. 

But after closing his eyes and relaxing his body, Jongin could feel his mind slowly grow dark as he was overtaken by sleep.

~~~

The shrill ringing of the bell that signalled the end of the first period was what startled Jongin awake. His eyes flew open, his ears buzzing and the sound of students pushing past each other to get to their next classes barely reaching his ears. 

Blinking his bleary eyes, he slung his bag over his shoulder and hobbled to the crowd to get out of the class, making sure to stay at the very back of the crowd. One of the students' bumped into him, causing Jongin to lose his balance and fall over into a nearby desk. His hip banged the edge of the desk, sending a stab of sharp needles into his injured side. A groan tried to shove its way up and out of his throat, but he quickly swallowed it down and gritted his teeth while pressing a hand to his side, laying his hand there gently. 

"What the?" the student who bumped into Jongin looked over at him, scowling at him for getting in his way before leaving the class. The look had Jongin rapidly ducking his head even more to hide his eyes and tightening the grip he had on the strap of his bag. 

His next class was biology, just down the hall to the right from his math class. He slid into the class from the back door—trying his best to avoid the utmost amount of attention he possibly could. As always, he sat at the far back in the seat next to the window. Those seats were always the best, with the windows down to let the cool breeze into the stifling classroom where it was packed with sweaty students. And the days he didn't sleep, he would discreetly peek out the window to watch the other students outside, either walking out of the building to get somewhere, or to watch the guys in the field—that was slightly visible from where the class was located—play rugby or soccer or football. Not being a lover of sports whatsoever, Jongin didn't understand the basics of the games; it was just sort of calming, watching them pass the ball back and forth between one another.

The heavy sound of a backpack hitting the floor with a thud had him turning his head to his side, belatedly realizing that he was supposed to keep his head low. He was met with another shock. The new kid, Kyungsoo, was apparently in his biology class, too, and out of all the seats in the class, he occupied the seat next to Jongin that had always been empty, _yet again_. But as if nothing was off, Kyungsoo took a seat, lightly touching his short raven hair before pulling out his utensils for the class—his binder and pens. 

Feeling someone watching him, Kyungsoo turned his head and lightly smiled at Jongin, waving his hands like he had done earlier. "Hi," Kyungsoo said, greeting him like they were friends. If Jongin had been confused earlier, now he was just left completely gawking at the other man, his jaw hanging open. 

The door opened and Mr. Park walked in with a handful of the notes they were going to take that day. "Already students, get in your seats." The couple of students who were up and about in the classroom took their seats just as the bell rang for the start of the period. Mr. Park sorted out his notes while pulling out the attendance and scanned through it before his eyes landed on an unfamiliar name. "Do Kyungsoo?" Upon hearing his name, Kyungsoo raised his hand. "Well, it looks like we have a new student. For those of you who still haven't met Kyungsoo, welcome him to this school. He will be your acquaintance from now on." 

A collective amount of voices all greeted Kyungsoo at once, while Jongin could barely hold himself back from making a face—though even if he did, no one would be paying attention. Again, a handful of girls piped up, gushing over how attractive the new kid was, their words and low-key fan-girling causing Jongin to grimace in disgust. 

As Mr. Park began to speak, Jongin turned his head to the other side and rested his head on the desk, much like he had done during first period. He faintly heard his teacher say something about finding a partner for a work sheet, and Jongin groaned and tried to feign sleep. He hoped that the bit of sleep he had left when he left math class would come back to drag him back into his dark abyss until the end of the period. If he tried hard enough, he'd find that shred of sleep he was looking for...

But a tap on his shoulder had Jongin stirring. The first thing that popped in his mind was annoyance from bring brought back to reality, until he suddenly realized that no one in the class ever payed attention to him and had never tried getting his attention—instead choosing to ignore him completely. As he wondered who it could be, he turned his head to meet eyes with the one person he never expected it to be, yet had fully expected at the same time. 

Staring straight at him was a pair of large doe eyes that belonged to none other than Do Kyungsoo. Jongin mentally cursed. "Hey, do you want to be my partner for this?" He held up a work sheet that Mr. Park must've handed out just now when he had been spacing out, trying to sleep. When Kyungsoo noticed the confusion mixed with irritation in Jongin's expression, he quickly scrambled for something to add. "I-It's just that you didn't look like you had a partner and I don't know who else to ask and I don't really know anyone here—"

_You don't fucking know me either, though_, Jongin wanted to say, but he chose to keep his mouth shut. 

For a few seconds, his eye darted back between the work sheet and Kyungsoo's face and back to the work sheet before looking back up. And after holding his gaze for a bit, Jongin rudely turned his head the other way and rested his head on his arms again, hoping that his actions conveyed his message, just like earlier—that he didn't want to be Kyungsoo's partner for anything. 

He heard a deep, defeated sigh come from behind him, and for a second, a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he wondered if he regretted his decision of turning away like that. Maybe he had been too harsh. But when he heard a girl's voice behind him ask Kyungsoo if he wanted to be partners with her, he told himself he did the right thing. 

The best thing to do was to always keep his distance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates were usually one chapter every week, but lately my updates have been getting slower, and I apologize for that. But I love you all and hope you understand :)


	4. Chapter 3

The moment the end of last period's bell rang, Jongin almost cried with relief. He couldn't take another hour of sitting in a class just to find ways to occupy himself for the six hours of classes where he did absolutely nothing.

As always, he exited the school from the back door and made a beeline for his favourite place on school property—actually, probably his favourite place out of the whole chaotic city that was known as Seoul. 

He plopped down beside the tree behind the school, feeling its roots poking his legs and hearing the dead leaves crunch under his butt as he shifted slightly to get comfortable. 

He had waited for everyone to leave before exiting the school, not wanting to be caught up in the crowd, so it was quite peaceful. The only students left were the ones who were waiting for a ride or had extracurricular activities after school. 

The baby blue of the sky was slowly fading as dark clouds gathered, indicating that it would rain soon. It was too bad Jongin didn't carry an umbrella around. He used to have one—one that had been old and dirty—but his father had broken it. The poor umbrella had already been fragile and slightly tattered, but when his father had gone through one of _those_ moments of his—the ones where the alcohol had a whole other toll on him and shut off his mind to the point where he became a literal threat to Jongin's life and wanted to rid him of this world because the resemblance to his mother was uncanny and too unbearable for his father to handle—he had picked up the closest solid object to him and had used it as a weapon against Jongin, hitting him with it until the umbrella's structure had collapsed and snapped, no longer being of any use to his father and no longer providing Jongin what little shelter he needed from the rain.

But that was okay. Jongin quite liked the rain, if he was being honest. He liked the way it sounded—the delicate drops of it hitting the earth and dampening it. He liked its fresh, earthy scent that became stronger once it mixed in with the dirt. He liked the way the wet drops felt on his face, his skin, and how it left him feeling refreshed and cooler. How if he laid back and closed his eyes while listening to the rain, it would lull him into another world—one where everything was beautiful and clean and perfect. He wasn't stupid to believe that world would one day be his, but the image and the feel of that world, even if it was just in his head, was more than enough. 

Just as Jongin was about to relax, he heard the sound of someone shifting around. Jongin stiffened. He listened, waiting for it to come again, but there was nothing. He released the tension in his shoulders and shook it off as his imagination right before he heard it again. The sound was way too close for his liking. As if the person was right there...

He turned his head, his face colliding with someone's shoulder, and he quickly pulled back like he had been burnt. When his eyes landed on the intruding figure, Jongin almost choked. It was that new kid—Kyungsoo. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were also sitting here," Kyungsoo piped up, his smiles sparkling with glee at seeing a rather familiar face. 

Jongin had the strong urge to punch Kyungsoo in the face. Why was he sitting here, in his spot? Of course, it wasn't really Jongin's spot, but he liked to see it as his own as he was always the one occupying the spot. So seeing someone else sitting here with him just irked him. Kyungsoo was new and didn't know, but still. 

Huffing, Jongin contemplated whether he should sit here and show Kyungsoo that this was his special spot and his territory, or if he wanted to just call it quits and get up because breathing the same air as someone in his class and being close with them was the last thing he wanted. In the end, he grumbled under his breath and picked up his bag. The faster he retreated, the better. 

But a hand took hold of his arm and tugged him, trying to get him to sit down again. Kyungsoo looked apologetic. "If I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. But I don't want you to leave your spot because you feel uncomfortable." After a bit more tugging, he got Jongin to sit back down, though there was a large space in between them, Jongin trying to keep his distance. 

At first, Jongin had hoped that Kyungsoo letting him sit back down meant that the latter would leave and find somewhere else to sit and let Jongin keep his spot. But after a few seconds ticked by, Jongin realized that wasn't going to be the case as the other man continued to sit next to him, causing Jongin to curl in on himself unknowingly, trying to create a bigger gap between them. 

There was a heavy blanket of silence that covered them both like a veil, weighing on Jongin's shoulders and he wished for nothing more than to push that weighted silence off and run away. But it was like he kept him glued to his spot, refusing to let him get up and leave Kyungsoo behind.

And then Kyungsoo cracked the silence by talking after what felt like forever. "So, I never really quite learned your name. You didn't tell me in class when I asked you." For a moment, Jongin sort of felt bad for not wanting to respond to Kyungsoo, but as quick as the feeling came, he shot it down. Stubbornly, he kept his lips glued. Catching onto the way Jongin pursed his lips and looked the other way, Kyungsoo hummed and continued talking, as if the move didn't bother him one bit. "You're not much of a talker, are you? It's okay; I'm not really a talker either. I prefer to stay quiet and listen to others and observe them rather than throw myself into a conversation." Kyungsoo paused, and after a second, Jongin nodded to show that he was listening. Smiling, Kyungsoo continued. "I'm guessing it's the same for you, too?" He paused again, waiting for an answer, and Jongin nodded his head once, albeit barely visible.

Honestly, Jongin wasn't sure why he was still sticking around. He didn't even know Kyungsoo and didn't want to know Kyungsoo because he had promised himself that he would never get close to someone. Getting close to someone would mean having expectations for them and them having expectations for him and he didn't want that. Friends were always just temporary figures—people who hung out with you for a little bit before forgetting you and moving on with their lives. There was no point in them when they never even stayed. Having friends meant growing attachments to them, which meant having to deal with heartbreak when they no longer wanted you and decided it was time to take out the trash.

The last thing Jongin wanted was to develop an attachment to someone who would one day leave him and never come back. 

But Kyungsoo was just being friendly, Jongin tried to reason with himself. He was a new kid who didn't have anyone to talk to and was hoping to find something to keep himself entertained. Just sitting here for five minutes and letting Kyungsoo bore himself was the least Jongin could do for the other man. 

"Well since I have nothing better to do, why don't I tell you a bit about myself? And maybe if you feel like it, you could tell me about yourself, too," Kyungsoo said. "But only if you're comfortable, too," he added after that. Jongin wasn't going to talk—and Kyungsoo probably already knew that—but Kyungsoo talking had taken his mind off of a few things and it was actually kind of... nice. Having someone talk to him, even if the conversation was one-sided. And Kyungsoo had such a nice voice—all deep and velvety and smooth like rich chocolate, as if his voice was made to lull someone to sleep or put them in a trance.

While Kyungsoo talked about himself, Jongin payed attention. He wasn't usually one for listening to others and giving them attention but there was something about Kyungsoo and the way he talked about everything and yet nothing at all that drew Jongin to his voice, his topic. It wasn't even an interesting topic—it was all basic and normally would be a boring topic—but Jongin couldn't find it in him to block out Kyungsoo's voice so easily. 

While Kyungsoo talked, he slowly shifted towards Jongin. Each time he moved, he froze before chancing a glance at the one he was talking to, hoping that he didn't flinch away or leave due to being uncomfortable. After many feeble attempts at trying to get this student—whose name Kyungsoo still didn't know—to talk, Kyungsoo, who realized it wasn't going to work, decided that he could just talk instead of making this kid talk. 

Kyungsoo's arm moved as he talked, accidentally elbowing Jongin in the side, and Jongin promptly jerked away, gasping as he held his side. Flinching and pulling his elbow back, Kyungsoo's eyebrows furrowed in concern as he watched Jongin's face crumble in pain, his lungs feelings like they've collapsed while his bones felt like they were cracked in many ways. 

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Kyungsoo asked, unsure of what he had done exactly. All he knew was that he had done something very wrong. When Jongin's breaths came out as wheezes, a strange whistling sound coming from his chest, that was when the panic hit Kyungsoo. "Oh my god, are you okay? What's wrong? Shit, what do I do?!"

But Jongin wasn't listening. He couldn't hear at all. A white noise buzzed in Jongin's ear drums and his eyes fogged. Pulling his legs up to his chest, he bent his head and hid his face in between his legs, something that had always helped him deal with certain pains. 

Kyungsoo's hand came up to rub Jongin's back, hoping that it would do something to help him cope with whatever he was feeling. Elbowing someone on accident would never hurt that badly unless— "Did I hit something?" Kyungsoo perceived. "Did I hit an injury?" His hand came up to touch Jongin's side, but the other man made a small sound in the back of his throat and slightly moved his body away. Even with a hazy mind, Jongin still didn't want Kyungsoo to see his side. It would be disgusting to look at and he didn't want a stranger getting too close to him. It would scare him away. What he didn't feel, though, was Kyungsoo placing a gentle hand on the small of his back and rubbing slow, calming circles onto his skin through his uniform shirt to try and ease the pain. 

Through it all, Jongin didn't make a single sound, the only thing that could be heard from him being his deep, calculated breathing. It was surprising for Kyungsoo. Despite not knowing what was going on or what had happened, one look at Jongin's face and Kyungsoo could tell he was in a lot of pain, and yet how was it that he didn't make even the smallest noise of discomfort? 

Then, Jongin straightened up a bit, the pain in his ribs subsiding until there was only a dull throb. That was when he felt the tiny weight on his back, and when he glanced at Kyungsoo, the latter realized and quickly retracted his hand before muttering an apology. 

Kyungsoo was so curious as to what it was that caused this guy to be in so much pain. It must've been a really bad injury for him to have been out of it for awhile. Kyungsoo's building curiosity as he wondered what the injury could be was immediately stamped down. He didn't want to further corner the other man into the troubled zone he was already pushed into because of Kyungsoo.

Silence fell over them once again, no words exchanged between them—not that Jongin had even talked this whole time. 

Something wet fell on Jongin's forehead, and he wiped it away, not paying it any mind. But just then, thunder crackled above, a bolt of lightning splitting the sky. Jongin startled, flinching in the slightest, not expecting it at all. Another drop of rain landed on Jongin's face and all of a sudden, it was like a bucket of water had been tipped over in the heavens. The pouring rain began to soak through Kyungsoo's and Jongin's clothes, wetting the earth beneath them. 

Kyungsoo cursed under his breath before grabbing the strap of his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He lifted his arm to shield his face from the rain and was about to bolt when he noticed how his classmate was still sitting on the ground, seemingly staring into nothingness. "What are you doing, sitting there? It's pouring!" Without thinking, Kyungsoo bent over and grabbed Jongin's wrist, tugging him to his feet and pulling him along to find shelter. 

Jongin almost couldn't think, stumbling behind Kyungsoo and fighting to keep up with his rapid footsteps. If he wasn't so shellshocked, he would've pushed Kyungsoo away; he hated when people he didn't know laid their hands on him. Actually, he hated when anyone in general touched him. Yet here Kyungsoo was, someone he didn't know at all, holding his wrist and tugging him along in the pouring rain to find shelter, and Jongin wasn't doing anything to stop him. Under Kyungsoo's tight grasp, his wrist was burning, but not because Kyungsoo's grip was painfully tight, but because of something else. Something Jongin couldn't put his finger on. 

Rain fell on them as if they were standing under a shower-head, running down their faces and causing their uniforms to stick to their now-wet torsos. 

A low roof held up by poles outside of the school doors came into view—a place with tables underneath for students who preferred eating out in the open. Kyungsoo wordlessly pulled Jongin underneath it before huffing and brushing off the droplets of water on his sleeves. His hair was matted to his forehead and the same went for Jongin. 

Jongin ruffled his wet hair with his free hand. Wait, his free hand? Jongin looked down at his other hand only to see that Kyungsoo still had a tight grip on it. Jongin's eyebrows furrowed, and he went to cough to get the other man's attention. 

But then he realized something. Why was he acting like this? Why was he letting this man hold his wrist when he had never done that with anyone else? The past thirty minutes, he had been acting like someone who wasn't him—letting someone talk to him and keep him entertained, place their hand on his back, and pull him around in the rain. As if a lightbulb had been dropped, he snapped out of his reverie, and he harshly shook Kyungsoo's hand off, pulling his hand away and balling it into a fist by his side.

"Oh, s-sorry," Kyungsoo apologized, pulling his hand back. The sullen look in Kyungsoo's eyes had something clenching in Jongin's stomach. Kyungsoo stuck his head out from under the low roof before puling himself back. "It doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon. It's pretty heavy."

Droplets of water rolled off the edge of the roof, the heavy yet soft pitter-patter of the rain resonating in Jongin's ears. The sky was dark, and another flash of lightning lit up among the grey clouds. Puddles of mud and water formed on the ground, the heavy rain making it almost impossible to see through it. 

Kyungsoo sighed as he thought about how he'd have to continue standing here, making his classmate uncomfortable with him all over again. This was not what he had wanted. 

"Jongin." 

A voice so quiet and unsure spoke up, so shushed that Kyungsoo almost hadn't heard it.

He turned. "What?"

His classmate pressed his lips together before speaking again, this time his voice coming out a bit louder. "My name—it's Jongin. Kim...Jongin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit of a rushed chapter but it's only a filler chapter for more to come.


	5. Chapter 4

A light drizzle still fell on the city when Jongin had decided it was time he left. Kyungsoo had thought about suggesting walking Jongin home, but feared that he would be making the latter disconcerted, which was all Kyungsoo seemed to do the whole time. In the end, he had watched Jongin stumble off into the rain that had now begun to die down.

Jongin walked out of the alley and down the cracked path to his place. Once again, he unlocked the door to his house and pushed the door open. One step into the house and he knew something was off; it was eerily quiet. Normally, his father would be lounging on the couch or at the table drinking, but he wasn't there today. Jongin froze by the mini table as he tried to listen for any sound in the house. There seemed to be none until he heard a faint snoring. His father was sleeping. 

Jongin sighed in relief. For once, he had steered clear of any beatings or curses. Heading to his room, Jongin dropped his bag on the floor. The snickers bar that he had left on his bed was still there, all melted. In reaction to it, his stomach growled. Jongin scowled. Human bodies were so fucking weak. Why couldn't they just go twenty-four hours without feeling the need to eat something? 

But it wasn't like Jongin was one to say anything. He either ate the melted snicker bar or he went another few hours without anything, all while feeling his stomach sticking to his insides. As always, Jongin planned to go with the latter, but his stomach said otherwise, sending out another signal that it was hungry and wanted something to eat. Dejectedly, Jongin ripped open the wrapper and peeled it back, revealing sticky caramel and melted chocolate that stuck to the wrapper of the bar. He hated melted chocolate with a passion and prepared to throw it out, but he couldn't bring himself to, not when his stomach felt like it was shrivelling in on itself from hunger. 

The first bite, albeit small, tasted heavenly. Trembling fingers holding the sides of the bar delicately, like it would snap if he held on too hard, Jongin took another, slightly bigger, bite. The mixture of caramel and chocolate smeared on his dry, colour-drained top lip and Jongin wiped it off before sucking it off his finger. Licking chocolate off his top lip and the wrapper was never something Jongin did, but blinded by his needy hunger, he couldn't really find it in himself to care. 

Licking the last bit of chocolate off his fingers, Jongin threw the wrapper in the mini trash can next to him, his hunger finally able to rest for a while. 

Just then, the old, loose wooden floor of the hallway creaked, and Jongin stiffened. His father was awake. His fingers curled into his uniform pants, wrinkling the fabric, and he held his breath as the footsteps grew closer.

And he was in that desolate, dark room again from his nightmares, hearing the heavy footsteps draw closer with an agitated, racing heart. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, and his saliva thickened on his tongue as he could only pray that his father wouldn't approach his room and cause havoc. 

But then the footsteps faded, leading into the kitchen, and Jongin took a deep breath. If he just stayed in his room a little longer, then his father would eventually go back to his room and Jongin would be able to venture out. 

Jongin tossed himself on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. His low, low ceiling, so low that if Jongin just stood up on his tip-toes, he would be able to lay the tips of his middle and index finger on the ceiling. 

He turned onto his right side—the side that wasn't badly bruised—and let his eyelids fall. And they shot open again in a panicked haze. Taped to the back of his eyelids had been none other than Kyungsoo. 

"Oh my god," Jongin groaned, crinkling his nose in displeasure. He was so done with this new kid. First, the kid sat next to him in class as if it wasn't written all over Jongin that he was the school's outcast, and then he came and talked to him after school and Jongin had been brainless enough to let him touch him. Seriously, what had he been thinking? His head wasn't on properly all day, Jongin told himself. He wouldn't have been affected by a stranger if it had been placed on the right way.

But that was just today, he thought. By tomorrow Kyungsoo would have people swarming him, wanting to be his friend or get in his pants or whatever people did, and Kyungsoo would leave Jongin alone. He'd also learn that Jongin was the one person he wouldn't have to associate himself with in school and he'd find somewhere else to sit in class. And when that happened, Jongin would be back to being lonely, just the way he liked it. 

~~~

Again, Jongin snuck in through the back door of the class which did nothing to help him avoid unwanted attention—which was any form of attention. 

Seated in the spot next to his was once more, the new kid. Jongin glowered. He couldn't wait until the student moved somewhere else. Spotting Jongin, Kyungsoo waved. "Hey, Jongin." Said student almost stopped in his tracks upon hearing himself be acknowledged in front of his peers who had all begun chattering about how _the new kid just talked to the loser_. God, how Jongin wished this day would go by quicker so Kyungsoo could find some friends and get out of his sight. 

That was what he wanted the most. He was sure of it. 

Ignoring the other, Jongin plopped down in his seat and turned the other way. He didn't see the crestfallen look on Kyungsoo's face at the cold shoulder before dejectedly turning to the front of the class to listen to the teacher. 

For the duration of the class, Jongin listened to the sound of pencil on paper, the chatter of the students and the teacher, and the rough scrape of the chalk against the blackboard, all while keeping his head buried in his arms. 

Sometimes, Jongin wished he did stuff at school. Wished he had motivation to actually study and do something with his life, rather than coming to class everyday to sleep. But he couldn't find it in him to be interested in the three-dimensional vectors or quadratic relations or what the value of _x_ was. 

In his next class, Biology, Kyungsoo was seated next to him again. Jongin just wanted him to hurry up and find friends so he could evacuate the spot next to him. 

"Alright class," Mr. Park said, dropping a thick stack of papers down on his desk, "we're going to be starting a project today." A collective whine came from the students at the mention of a project that no one was looking forward to doing. "Settle down everyone, settle down. This can be done alone or in pairs or in groups with a maximum of four people. I will introduce the project to you and you may choose your groups afterwards. Today's period will be used to start off the project."

With that, the teacher pulled up a powerpoint as he explained what he expected to see in the project, not that Jongin was really paying attention. Right after the teacher gave the green light for students to start picking partners, a group of girls swarmed around Kyungsoo's desk, asking him to be their partner.

One of the girls—Jongin faintly remembered her name being something like Eun Jung, but he wasn't good with names—came up to Kyungsoo, batting her long, fake eyelashes. "Hey, I was wondering if we could work together." There was so much coating of sugar in her tone, Kyungsoo was afraid he was going to get cavities. It was one of the reasons why he didn't find girls attractive, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. 

Instead, he smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, ladies. I was planning on doing the project alone." The girls surrounding Kyungsoo's desk all groaned, disappointed that they couldn't work with the _cute new guy_. Seeing their disheartened faces, Kyungsoo did feel a little bad, but at the same time, he wasn't comfortable with girls coming onto him, which was clearly what those girls had been trying to do. He just didn't see girls like that. 

He looked over at Jongin to his left, and sighed. He really had hoped that he'd get a bit closer to someone, especially him. But it didn't seem to be the case because Jongin was completely ignoring him despite everything yesterday. Kyungsoo had really thought he had gotten the interesting student in the corner of the class to open up even the slightest bit.

He spent the whole period researching on the topic he had chosen for the project. It had several parts and was due the next week. They only had one other class to work on it and then everything else had to be done at home. 

The period ended quite quickly, with Kyungsoo distracted with his work and Jongin zoned out the whole hour, staring at the wall to his left. All the students packed up and began filing out of the class, and Jongin was about to join them when Mr. Park called for him.

"Jongin." Said man froze in his tracks and turned in his teacher's direction, not glancing up to make eye contact. "Do you have a moment? The other teachers and I wanted to have a chat with you."

_No_, Jongin wanted to say. He didn't want to talk to the teachers. He didn't want a one-on-one conversation with them. 

But it wasn't like he had a choice, so he silently stalked after the teacher as he was led into the mini conference room designed for teachers and students to have private chats. In there, Ms. Lee was already waiting, along with the principal and Jongin's fifth period teacher, Mrs. Kim who taught Economics—one of the most boring subjects, yet for some reason he had still chosen it. 

"Please sit, Jongin." Mr. Park motioned for him to sit in one of the chairs. Jongin stiffly lowered himself in one of the chairs while his three teachers sat down on the other side of him, his principal hovering around his teachers. 

HIs clammy fingers played with one another under the wooden table, never having been alone with his teachers and the fucking _principal_ before. He didn't feel so good. The air was growing too thick in the room, and Jongin wasn't sure if he could continue breathing properly if this kept up. 

"Jongin," Ms. Lee started, "we wanted to talk about you in classes. We've been looking through your grades and it's not looking too well."

"Your marks are all below fifty percent," Mrs. Kim bluntly added, not wanting to skirt around the topic too carefully. "I know the year just started, but we're already nearing November, and your grades haven't made the slightest improvement. In fact, they've dropped profoundly. We even talked with your eleventh grade teachers and they all said that your grades have been like this all throughout the year."

Jongin hung his head when the principal butted in. "I'm afraid, Jongin, that if this keeps up, you'll fail high school. If it comes to that, you'll have to retake all your classes."

Honestly, one way or another, Jongin knew it was going to come to this. 

"And it's not only the grades that are concerning. We were wondering if the downfall of your grades might be caused by something happening in your everyday life that distracts you from studying." 

Jongin wanted to laugh. Pretending to care about his grades, his life, who did these teachers think they were? They had no connections to Jongin, and what happened to him in his life strictly stayed with him. Besides, even if they knew, what could they do? 

"Are there things going on in your life that we should be more aware of, Jongin?" Ms. Lee asked, to which Jongin didn't answer, his bottom lip caught in between the top row of his teeth. She sighed. "We can't force you to talk, but we really want to help you, Jongin. You're constantly wearing bruises and coming late. It worries us as teachers."

Kyungsoo had been wandering the hall when he happened to stumble upon the conference room, and in there, he saw Jongin seated at a table with the teachers, courtesy of the glass door that put everything in the room on full display. 

And he couldn't help but notice how jittery Jongin looked, how his leg bounced up and down under the table, his fingers entwining and untwining with his teeth having a strong grip on his lower lip. He didn't know what the teachers were talking about, but from this angle, seeing Jongin's eyes that were always covered by his messily swept hair, Kyungsoo knew he wasn't the least bit comfortable in that room. 

Acting on instinct, he barged into the room. "Hey, Mr. Park, I had a question about the project I wanted to ask—" He spared a glance at Jongin and pretended to be shocked to see him. "Oh, didn't know you were in here." He stood awkwardly for a second, before saying, "Was this a bad time?"

Sighing, Mr. Park nodded. "Yes, it was a very bad time. We just had some stuff to discuss with Jongin so if you could—Jongin, Jongin!" he called, and Kyungsoo turned to see that Jongin was leaving the conference room without turning back. Seeing his opportunity to flee, Jongin took it.

Mr. Park pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled. "Alright, what is it that you need, Kyungsoo?"

Hand gripping his bag, Jongin walked farther and farther away from the conference room. Why had Kyungsoo just barged in like that? Clearly he had seen everything going on in the room through the glass door, which was s_ee-through_, so why?

Speaking of said man... "Jongin!" There he was. Jongin wanted to curl up and hide away. He tried to walk faster, but apparently his long legs weren't able to help him because Kyungsoo, even with short legs, easily caught up to him. Maybe it was because he jogged. "Jongin, I called your name and you didn't answer. Did you not hear?"

As always, Jongin didn't answer—only bowed his head, like he was ashamed. Like he was always ashamed. It struck Kyungsoo that he didn't think he'd seen Jongin's face properly even once all of yesterday and that day.

"Anyway," Kyungsoo said, as if he wasn't just ignored, "I actually didn't have a question for the teacher. I just felt bad that you were in there. I expect a thank you at some point." Kyungsoo didn't get one, but that was expected so it wasn't like he was going to be childishly butthurt. "The reason I butted in back there was because I noticed you were looking uneasy, so I thought it would be a good idea to get you out of there."

Jongin frowned. It wasn't like he had asked for any help, so there was no reason for Kyungsoo to have barged in like that to get Jongin out of the stifling room whose walls had almost closed in on him while he had been sitting in that chair, too many pairs of eyes staring him down for answers. It wasn't like they were close, either, so he didn't see a reason as to why Kyungsoo would go out of his way for him. 

The one word that laid heavy on his tongue slipped out without Jongin realizing. "Why?" It was only one word, yet behind those letters, there were so many questions, so much weight, so much confusion. 

Kyungsoo stopped in his tracks next to Jongin, shoes squeaking against the polished tiled floors of the hallway. Other students twisted in their attempts to dodge the two that were blocking the hallway. 

"Hm?" Kyungsoo crooned, low in his throat and soft. 

There was a long pause. Jongin gnawed at his bottom lip, trying to find his voice that had ran off to seek refuge. "Why are you helping me?" he finally got out, voice barely coming out as a whisper. "Why are you being so nice to me and talking to me? You've already been here for two days and you're suddenly acting like we're close friends or something. Just why?" There. Jongin said it. He seldom talked that much, whether it be to someone he had known for a while or someone he barely even knew. Yet when one word had slipped from his mouth, a chain of words had followed. 

Kyungsoo was shellshocked. How he was supposed to reply to those questions, he didn't know. "Because..." _There's just something about you that draws me in. Something I can't quite put my finger on_. But Kyungsoo couldn't bring himself to say that with vehemence. Instead, he stood there, looking like a gaping fish as he tried to form a proper sentence that was believable. 

Jaw set, Jongin nodded glumly and sped off. It was understandable why Kyungsoo looked at a loss of words. Jongin's questions had probably struck him with the realization that he had been hanging around the wrong person, that he was hanging around someone that wasn't worth his time. 

His chest contracted as he tried to get away as quickly as possible, restricted breathing from anger causing his blunt nails to dig into his palms. 

"W-Wait, Jongin," Kyungsoo tried to call out, but Jongin was already out of sight, swallowed up by the crowd of students.

~~~

The last couple of periods weren't the brightest, and when Kyungsoo got back to his new apartment, he threw his bag down on the mini black couch in the living room. 

"So fucking stupid," Kyungsoo groaned out, burying his face in his hands. When he looked up, the counterfeit of the Mona Lisa adorning the peach wall above the television stared back at him, seemingly agreeing. "Stop staring at me. I know I'm an idiot." The Mona Lisa's cat-like smile—and Kyungsoo blamed his stupid hallucinating—seemed to widen in exhilaration that Kyungsoo realized his own stupidity. The painting, however, didn't let up on its staring, silently mocking Kyungsoo and his misery. 

Kyungsoo really should've hung the painting somewhere else. It was the first thing he had unpacked because he had wanted to check to see if it was still in tiptop shape after being in the moving van all day, and then he had seen no point in putting it back in its box. 

Boxes still laid around on the wooden floor of the living room, some boxes laying in the room Kyungsoo had claimed as his bedroom. He hadn't taken anything out of the boxes yet, only having moved the other day, so the house was still in chaos and nothing was organized. Kyungsoo planned to use the upcoming weekend to clean out the whole house, though. 

The one thing that saddened him was that his bed was still in its confines, which meant Kyungsoo had to sleep on the floor with his comforter. It wasn't all that comfortable for his back, but it was somewhat doable. 

Too lazy to rummage through the boxes to pull out his pots and pans to cook something, he strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge before pulling out one of the cup noodles he had stored in there. He was really getting sick of cup noodles, but it would have to do until he unpacked his stuff and actually went grocery shopping to stock up his fridge. 

He prepared a pot of boiling water and placed it on the stove before dumping the noodles in. 

At exactly 10:30 PM, Kyungsoo was all washed up, snug in his baby blue pyjamas, already crawling under his blanket and resting his head on his one and only trustworthy friend, his pillow. 

He had just closed his eyes when they flew open again. God, Kyungsoo couldn't find a single trace of sleep in him. In his head, he mulled over everything Jongin had said. Tried to find an answer to his questions. And each time, Kyungsoo came up with nothing. Fuck, even Kyungsoo didn't know why he was being nice to Jongin. Even he didn't know why he was helping him and sticking around him as if they were classmates who had known each other for a long time. 

Maybe it was his desperation to find friends in this unfamiliar city that had led him to try and befriend Jongin. But even then, Kyungsoo knew that wasn't true. Anyone could see that Jongin was the school's outcast—the black sheep amongst his peers. Yet still...

Something had gnawed at his heartstrings upon meeting Jongin's gaze for the first time, and Kyungsoo still had yet to figure out what it meant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I love you all :).


	6. Chapter 5

Thrice the sun rose and set below the horizon; three days it was. Three days passed, and Kyungsoo wasn't able to utter a single word to Jongin. Even after three days, Jongin had avoided Kyungsoo like the plague, turning around and going in the direction he had come when he saw Kyungsoo heading towards him, and taking a right turn when Kyungsoo was about to take a left. 

It was infuriating, to say the least. Kyungsoo refused to believe that their friendship was put to an end without even starting. But there was nothing he could do when Jongin no longer spared him a glance. The day after their 'fight'—if Kyungsoo could even call it that—Jongin had come in early to class just to move Kyungsoo's desk to another location, disapproving of the idea that he had to continue sitting next to him. Upon walking into the class, Kyungsoo had found his desk at the end of the row of desks farthest from Jongin. No one had questioned it, and Kyungsoo hadn't had the nerve to move his desk back. 

The weekend hit without Kyungsoo realizing, and he was waking up late on Saturday at 11:00 AM, the sun already high in the sky when he pried his swollen eyes open and pulled the curtains aside to let his room be bathed in the sun's warm glow. 

Setting his gaze on the boxes in his room, he huffed. He had to spend such a beautiful weekend cleaning his apartment. Oh, the joys that came with moving. 

Hastily brushing his teeth and washing his face, Kyungsoo made his way into his kitchen and pulled out the bag that only had one bagel left. His toaster was near the bottom of one of his boxes, and Kyungsoo was in no mood to pull it out, so he was just going to have to live with eating cold bread for the day. 

Despite it being mid-October, the morning weather was turning crisp, the tips of the winds blowing through his open windows bone-chilling as it tickled Kyungsoo's bare skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It didn't help that Kyungsoo liked walking around his apartment in the mornings with only a pair of sweatpants with no shirt, so he was left shivering, but it was either he left the windows open to get fresh air or close them and feel stifled, and putting on a shirt wasn't an option until the first snow hit the earth. 

He sat at his dining table set up on the farthest side of the kitchen with a cup of black coffee and his sad, cold bagel. 

As he ate his breakfast, he thought about how he was going to organize his apartment, where things were going to go. Maybe he'd relocate the MonaLisa somewhere else because really, having it sit above the TV and bore its eyes into Kyungsoo every time he was watching a show wasn't the way to go. Seriously, Kyungsoo just wanted to watch his goddamn show. Was that too much to ask for? 

He'd have to figure how to get his bed built, or maybe he'd leave it for awhile and call a friend down from Goyang to help him. There were so many things to organize, so many things to unbox and clean that it was giving Kyungsoo a headache.

Not to mention, he had the project for Biology he was supposed to work on. In all honesty, he had wanted to work with Jongin, see if he could get the enigmatic boy in his class to open up a bit more, but that backfired on him because it seemed he scared Jongin away instead. 

_Whatever_, Kyungsoo told himself. There was no reason to be so hooked on Jongin. If he wanted to be the way he was, who was Kyungsoo to just show up and try and befriend him? 

Dishes in the sink, his sleeping area on the lovely hard floor tidied up, and a thin hoodie thrown over his naked torso, Kyungsoo grabbed his glasses and placed it on the bridge of his nose. He had something called astigmatism, which was totally the worst for his sight when people always mistook his struggles to see as a sign that he hated others, but his glasses made him look five and Kyungsoo preferred looking more...mature, which was why he had resorted to wearing contacts at school, though at home it was much more comfortable with his glasses.

Phone in hand along with his house-plus-car keys with his wallet, he set out to get cleaning products from the store and groceries for his bare fridge. He may or may not have been planning to sneak some of his mother's wet wipes and other cleaning products in one of his boxes, but chose against it, scared of getting an ass-whooping from his mother who wouldn't appreciate having her products stolen, even by her own son. 

He hopped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor to take him to the parking lot. He leaned back against the wall of the elevator and rested his hands on the bars situated on the interior walls of the elevator, watching as the storey level dropped rapidly, and then the doors were sliding open to the ground floor. The receptionist at the front desk of the apartment, a middle-aged woman whose hair was always pulled back in a tight bun while her glasses sat perched on the end of her nose, flashed him a soft smile as Kyungsoo bowed his head to her before making his way out of the sliding doors and into the parking lot. 

He pulled out the keys to his black Maserati and hopped into the driver's seat, sliding the keys into the ignition and starting up his car before setting out onto the road. 

He wasn't even sure where he was headed. He tried mapping out the city a bit, even just his neighbourhood, with little to no luck. Seoul was over double the size of Goyang, and Kyungsoo had barely been able to make his way around Goyang. All Kyungsoo knew was that there was a grocery store just a few minutes away—which he was sure he wouldn't be able to find because he already forgot half the directions that were supposed to lead him there. 

His car rolled onto an open road leading out of the neighbourhood and he spotted a large supermarket to his right. _Lotte Mart_. Well that was easy. He pulled his car into the parking lot and stepped out, making sure his wallet was still in his pocket before entering the building. 

It was...huge. Kyungsoo didn't think he'd ever been in a supermarket this size before. Neatly polished tiled floors supported shelves with stacks of food that Kyungsoo had never even heard about. There was everything here—from food and snacks to toys and cleaning products and bedding—which was great because that meant Kyungsoo didn't have to find another store to buy cleaning products. 

"Alright," Kyungsoo sighed after grabbing himself a shopping cart, "fruits and vegetables first." Everything seemed so pricey, though. 

He threw into his cart a cabbage along with lettuce and celery. Behind him, a couple of ladies were placing bets on which watermelons were probably better than the other. Kyungsoo had to roll his eyes. Even after moving, it seemed one thing hadn't changed with the people, which Kyungsoo was grateful for. 

After picking up all the fruits and vegetables he needed, Kyungsoo swept the area in hopes of catching a sign that would lead him to the cleaning products. In times like these, he wished he was at least as tall as his dad so that he could see better over these shelves. A bummer, really.

Circling the market, he came across the ice cream section, the mint chocolate chip flavour seemingly grinning at him. _Oh god_, Kyungsoo thought. He had tried so hard to stay away from ice cream, especially mint chocolate chip when his mother told him his obsession with it was inhumanely unhealthy. The last time he had let himself come near it was five months ago. He wasn't about to break his streak already. But it looked so tempting, taunting him, knowing that he would break his streak sooner or later. 

Kyungsoo shook his head. "No, I must not. I stopped having them. Just because it's staring you down doesn't mean you can't overpower it..."

Five minutes later, he was berating himself over and over as he threw a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream into his cart, having finally caved in and given up on fighting his desires. 

He had already spent twenty minutes in here, so he quickly looked for the cleaning products, grabbed the closest ones and threw them in his cart before checking out and heading back to his apartment.

~~~

"I mean, it's okay, I guess," Kyungsoo replied as he wiped the living room floor, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the clumps of dust coming out from underneath his couch. 

His phone sat on the cushions of the couch on speaker as Kyungsoo talked to his friend since elementary school, Park Chanyeol. 

"Really? Just okay?" Chanyeol sounded disappointed on the other end of the phone before there were audible munching sounds. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. Of course he was eating something; when was his fat ass _not_ eating something? He was probably lounging on his bed watching Netflix, too. 

Shrugging—not that Chanyeol could see him, anyway—Kyungsoo said, "I mean, I haven't made any new friends yet and nothing interesting happened."

"So you're telling me that you haven't met some hot chick or sexy guy that you wanna bang or just wanna talk to?"

Hearing that, an image of Jongin flashed in his mind. Jongin with his unruly hair, sunken cheeks, consistent frown and dark aura. Jongin who came out of nowhere, wavering Kyungsoo and his thoughts and confusing him beyond comprehension. "Well, there is one person who I found interesting. Or enigmatic, I guess I should say. His name is Jongin."

There was the rustling of a chip bag as Chanyeol stuffed his hand in it for more. "Oh? Is he pretty good-looking?"

Kyungsoo pulled his white mask higher on the bridge of his nose and pulled the dust bunnies off the end of the sweeper he had bought. Thank god he was wearing gloves. He mulled over Chanyeol's question before realizing, "Honestly, I've never seen his face properly."

"The fuck?"

"Exactly my thoughts. Like his hair is purposely long so it covers his eyes and he always keeps his head down."

"And you said he's enigmatic, how?"

"Well," Kyungsoo said, "when you first meet him, you just think he's shy and anti-social, but the more you pay attention to him, you realize there's more layers to peel back. There's way more to Jongin than the layers I've failed to peel back so far."

"...You're losing me, dude. Mind explaining again?"

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. "I'm basically saying that his situation seems simple at first glance, but the more you pry, you realize it's bigger than you would've expected."

On the other end, Chanyeol stopped munching his chips. "And what's his situation?"

"That's the thing—I don't know. And the students don't know either, not even the teachers, and he's been in that high school for years, probably. He's so closed off from everyone and everything—Shit that's nasty," Kyungsoo cursed as he wiped the floor and came across short strands of hair that had fallen out while he had been combing his hair dipped into droplets of his shaving cream. He had left the living room and had moved into the bathroom, bringing his phone with him and seating it down on the closed lid of the toilet seat. 

Ignoring Kyungsoo's incoherent swearing, Chanyeol started saying, "And you've talked to him?"

"Yeah, in the beginning I talked to him and everything, and I thought I'd gotten some progress, but then he just completely stopped talking to me. And the other day, he sort of snapped at me—"

"Whoa, what a great start—"

"And he just walked off on me. The next day I went back to school and he had moved my desk far away from him and has completely ignored me these past couple of days."

"It's like you got dumped from a non-existent relationship."

Kyungsoo exhaled, plopping down on his now sort of clean bathroom floor. "I know," the whine was clear in his voice, "and I don't like it."

"Why are you so fixed on wanting to be his friend, anyway?"

"Just..." Kyungsoo didn't have a reason why he wanted to be Jongin's friend. He just...did. It was one of those urges that he didn't understand, just knew he had to fulfill it before it consumed him with regret. 

His silence was caught onto, and Chanyeol teasingly cooed on the other end of the phone. "Aw, does little Soo have a crush already?"

"You're lucky you're not with me right now."

Chanyeol cackled his annoying hyena laugh, and Kyungsoo wanted to punch him through the phone. "It's why I said it now, dumbass." Just as he said that, the water he had started drinking slid down the wrong way and he started coughing up the water. 

Now it was Kyungsoo's turn to crack up. "Karma seems to have turned up at your door."

"What the fuck? I swear you have ghosts helping you, don't you?"

Kyungsoo didn't stop laughing, even when Chanyeol threatened to come over and whoop his ass.

~~~

Jongin fucking hated weekends. Everyone else looked forward to the weekends, looked forward to bursting out the school doors, knowing they were going home and sleeping in and binge-watching their Netflix shows and not doing anything. But the one thing Jongin dreaded more than anything was going home on Friday evenings. At least with school, he could hide out there until he felt ready to go home and face his father. But on weekends, he couldn't do that. 

Usually, Jongin would get out of his house as early as possible to avoid collision with his father, and sometimes he was successful. On other days, not so much.

But this morning he was lucky enough to avoid his father and get out of the house before his father arose. As of now, he was wandering the streets with absolutely no aim. His hands smoothened out his uniform, the only proper clothing he had. He adjusted the black mask over his mouth. He wanted to keep eyes off him—didn't want the attention he would get if people's gazes fell upon his face.

His feet led him to a street full of carts that were selling street food. Business workers in their suits with briefcases in hand, couples out on dates, and families were all lined up to get a taste of the tteokbokki or the blood sausage. Jongin's mouth watered. The smell of the food that wafted out of each food cart was almost irresistible, creeping into his nostrils and altering every nerve in his body to just submit to the urge to grab a bite of something to eat. But he had no money for that. The last of his savings had all been used up—either for his father's alcohol or for the granola bars Jongin ate to keep himself on his feet.

A family walked by, the father holding his daughter's hand while the other held a bag of packed tteokbokki, and the mother held their daughter's other hand as their child skipped merrily in between them, swinging her parents' arms back and forth. Something wrenched at Jongin's heart at the sight, like a knife being twisted and pulled out. It hurt, but it hurt more when Jongin wasn't able to put a finger on what it could be. Hurt? Envy? Longing? He didn't know, and he prayed that it wasn't any of those. 

Even with the mask, it didn't do anything to boost Jongin's confidence, and he bowed his head down farther, ruffling his bangs over his forehead to cover his eyes. With his gaze trained on the tarmac, he sped out of the street, freeing himself from the crowd and the overpowering smell of tasty food. 

Out of the street, he found himself in a much narrower sidewalk that was less crowded, one that was lined with coffee shops and fast food restaurants. He passed by a coffee shop with the sign _Now Hiring, _and a thought hit him. If he worked, he'd probably have enough money to fend for himself. Obviously not a lot, but enough for something decent and maybe a few pairs of clothes. He wouldn't have to savour granola bars anymore or walk out of streets lined with food carts empty-handed due to having no money. 

But no sane place—nor person—would want to hire him. Plus he hated being around people. Hated talking and being put on the spot. He wouldn't be able to do anything for them, anyway. 

Speeding away from that street, Jongin ended up in another street—one that he sort of recognized but had never ventured down. It was quite a distance from his house, but he could tell it was close to his school. 

Unable to think of anything better to do, he decided to take a detour. If he got lost, that was just an excuse to get back to his place later than he should. 

The street was much more open with way more cars than there would be near his street. There were houses along with apartment complexes that looked way too luxurious for someone like Jongin. Each place was lined with long bushes of vibrant flowers: lilacs, mostly, with a few roses and tulips thrown in there. 

From the apartment complex across the street, someone walked out, swinging his arms and sighing out. He looked like he had been hard at work all day. He brushed his neatly-trimmed raven hair back and readjusted the black-framed glasses that sat on his nose. He looked so familiar, emitting a strong aura that had Jongin's fingertips tingling and his heart feeling twisty—

Kyungsoo? Jongin pushed his fringe back to make room for his eyes to peek out, and sure enough, it was the sole man who he had been avoiding and pushing away for the past few days. God, Jongin almost didn't recognize him. He looked like a totally different person with glasses on, and Jongin never would've guessed that his vision was anything but perfect. 

So...this was where he lived. Thinking that left an itching feeling in Jongin's insides, like something had been set loose and was trying to break free out of his chest. He didn't like the foreign feeling one bit. 

Jongin didn't even realize his eyes had been following Kyungsoo until the latter disappeared around the corner, arms stretched over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I feel horrible. I can't believe I spent this long trying to update something that should've been updated two weeks ago. I have never been more disappointed. I'm sorry for the long wait, and I'll try to update quicker because taking this long to update just isn't me. Anyway, I hope to be back soon, unlike this time.


	7. Chapter 6

Just like that, the weekend passed by in a blur, and Kyungsoo was already getting ready on Monday, putting on his school uniform and fixing his collar in the mirror. 

The morning had been beautiful. Again, he had woken up on the cold floor, yet warm under his covers. It had been hard to pull himself out of his warm blankets, but light was streaming in from under his closed curtains, and Kyungsoo knew he had to drag himself out quickly before he fell back asleep and problems ensued. 

He was dreading setting foot in the school. How was he supposed to face Jongin? Sure, it wasn't like he had done something wrong, but he had to admit he had cornered Jongin, left him vulnerable and at unease. And he had scared him away even more than the latter already had been. That wasn't what he had intended, but that's the result he got. 

Stuffing his bag with his school supplies and books, he slung it over his shoulder and took a look around his house. It was much neater than it had been on Friday, everything cleaned up and most of the unboxing already done. A few boxes still sat, waiting to be organized as well, but he could do that in his free time later. 

The trip to school was always on foot; there was no reason to take his car somewhere three minutes away. On foot, it took him an average of ten minutes to get to the school's front door. 

Everyone was already there by the time Kyungsoo got to his class, eyeing his desk that was now on the other side of the room before sighing and taking a seat. His eyes wandered over to the empty desk that sat in the other corner of the desk. Jongin still wasn't there, like always. There was the strong urge to apologize for whatever Kyungsoo may have done, because the look Jongin had given him under his bangs, though mostly covered, had Kyungsoo's heart shattering, its shards dropping to the pit of his stomach in guilt. The look had been loud and clear, and Kyungsoo slightly feared what he'd do if he had an encounter with the other. He had no idea how he was able to avoid Jongin for the couple of days after that, or maybe it was just that Jongin had been the one avoiding _him_ all together. 

The bell rang for the start of first period, yet Jongin's desk was still empty. Halfway through the class, it was still unoccupied. And in their second period class, Jongin was still nowhere to be seen. With his mind so occupied with Jongin, Kyungsoo was unable to focus on the project his Biology teacher had been so kind enough to let them work on, and only got a few of his slides done. Well, it was a start. 

But when walking to his third period, Kyungsoo caught the slightest glimpse of Jongin. He knew it was him—from his slumped shoulders to his long, fanned out hair and the faint drag of his limbs, as if he were cautious about walking, like he was injured somewhere and his legs weren't fast enough to respond when he tried to move them—before Jongin's figure was swallowed up by the crowd in the hallway as everyone shuffled to get to their next classes. 

So Jongin had been avoiding him because of their shared first two periods. Great.

When lunch rolled around, Kyungsoo found himself in the cafeteria with a tray in hand, waiting in line to get himself some food. The large room was crowded, shouts and laughter bouncing off the walls as some students pushed one another to butt ahead for their food. The cafeteria ladies all looked to be in their mid-thirties to early-forties. They of course didn't serve them—they served themselves—but they stood watch as everyone scooped up rice and placed prepared bowls of soup into their trays along with little side dishes like meat and salads. 

Kyungsoo wasn't stupid enough to look around in hopes of catching sight of Jongin. He knew already that he wouldn't ever be in the cafeteria. Someone like Jongin who seemed to hate crowded places more than anything and would do anything to avoid being around too many people wouldn't be spotted in the cafeteria where everywhere was crowded and there were too many people. That would be too many eyes that would focus on Jongin, too many mouths that would be mocking him at once. Jongin would surely avoid that. 

Kyungsoo chose to sit at the table near the back of the cafeteria. This spot surely was his favourite due to the cafeteria's back wall being solely made of glass, giving a full display of the back of the school—the open field, the blowing blades of grass, and the giant tree. The tree where he had sat and first conversed with Jongin. The tree that Jongin claimed as his. Sometimes, people would sit under those trees and eat if Jongin didn't come too quickly—Kyungsoo noticed those things every time he sat in this spot—but no one was there today, the weather too chilly and slightly cloudy for anyone to want to sit outside. 

Someone knocked on the surface of his table, and Kyungsoo's head snapped to his left where one of the boys in his second period class along with his two friends stood. "Hey, mind if we sit with you?" one of them, Kyungsoo vaguely remembered his name being Taeyong, asked. Kyungsoo shook his head, stating that he didn't mind company, though the second the group sat down, the unease settled in. 

Kyungsoo usually wasn't one to initiate conversations with other people—Jongin was one of the rare few who Kyungsoo had actually tried initiating a conversation with. But he was spared when Taeyong said, "Your name's Kyungsoo, right? The new kid." 

That's all it took for the the ice to break. 

Kyungsoo seemed to learn a lot about this new group. The other two that had come with Taeyong were apparently Jungwoo and Doyoung. Now that he thought about it, Kyungsoo was pretty sure Doyoung was in his fourth period class, one of the students that sat up front, but he couldn't really be too sure when all he saw from the back of the class was the back of everyone's heads.

Just as they fell on the topic about the Biology assignment, Kyungsoo saw someone's silhouette linger outside behind Taeyong who was currently complaining about how he wasn't even sure where he was going with his subject. Even through the light fog, Kyungsoo could make out the slumped shoulders and the slight drag in his heavy steps. It was over ten minutes after lunch had started, yet Jongin was only arriving to his spot by the tree now. 

Sucking on his spoon, Kyungsoo stared dazedly out the window over Taeyong's shoulder, watching Jongin plop down by the roots of the tree and curl up into a ball, seeming to bore his eyes into his knees, like there was something interesting there. 

Catching onto the fact that his complaints were falling on deaf ears, Taeyong paused his ranting. "What are you staring at?" Trying to follow Kyungsoo's gaze, he found himself looking over his own shoulder out to the figure on the other side of the glass window. He hummed. "Ah, that kid? He always sits there, whether it's raining or snowing or windy. Other students don't really like going there anymore since he kind of 'claimed' the spot."

Kyungsoo pulling the spoon out of his mouth and placed it on his tray. "Why? What's wrong with Jongin?"

Doyoung immediately scrambled out of his seat to lean over the table and shush Kyungsoo with a finger to his lips. "Don't say his name!"

Taeyong visibly shuddered. "God, I don't think I've ever heard anyone use his name before." 

Kyungsoo didn't like this. He didn't like this reaction towards Jongin. What was so bad about someone who hadn't caused any harm to other students? Kyungsoo wasn't blind; he knew how the students treated Jongin, how they saw him. They treated him like an outcast—like he wasn't even human—and badmouthed him as if he were old chewed-up gum stuck to the bottoms of their shoes. 

Kyungsoo had half a mind to get up and walk off with his tray, let the guys continue bullshitting over whatever it was that they were saying, but he instead decided to hear them out first.

"Why is using Jongin's name so bad?" Kyungsoo asked.

"Students say that saying his name is like a curse, that you'll be granted with bad luck if you ever utter his name even once," Taeyong continued to explain. 

"And what about you guys? Do you guys see him like that?"

Jungwoo shrugged his shoulders, looking at his friends. "I mean, we don't associate ourselves with him, but we don't really care either. We just stay away from him and don't throw ourselves into those kind of situations."

Kyungsoo's heart ached for Jongin, and his eyes couldn't help but stare longingly out at the figure who was currently burying his face in his knees. Taeyong caught on fast because he started whistling. "What, does the new kid have a crush on our school's outcast?"

Kyungsoo scowled, trying to pass off the sudden halting of his heart as him being taken aback by the question. "It's not like that. I'm just curious."

Taeyong went back to staring at his rice and picking at the grains before finally placing his spoon down. "That's cute and all, but let me tell you right now, it's best to stay away from him, too. You don't want to associate yourself with him, trust me. Not unless you want to be kicked to the curb and considered an outcast as well. Right now, others are passing it off as you trying to be nice, but if you continue doing that, people are going to start hating you and cursing you out. For your sake, I'd advice you keep your distance. Don't ruin your last high school year because of him."

Teeth chewing away at the inside of his cheek, Kyungsoo tightened his jaw. Taeyong was only trying to give him some advice, but his insides were boiling as he began to grow all defensive. _There's nothing wrong with Jongin,_ Kyungsoo wanted to say. _He's going through problems of his own; there's nothing wrong with that. _But if Jongin had been at this school for years and they still couldn't see who Jongin actually was, what were the chances that they would get it now? 

Kyungsoo didn't understand Jongin. He didn't know what he was going through, or what he did already go through. He wasn't aware of what was eating Jongin out from the inside at nights that left him with dark eye bags, or when he last ate for him to be so thin, as if he had been starving himself. But there was one thing that Kyungsoo was sure of; he wanted to understand. Unlike everyone else, he wanted to be part of the minority who tried their best to understand someone else's feelings and their life. Like a string that twined them together, Kyungsoo felt the need to get to know Jongin better, become closer to him, help him open his heart and break down the walls he had built around himself. 

Outside, Jongin exhaled, his breaths coming out in the form of puffy white clouds. He looked cold. Almost numb.

Something tugged at Kyungsoo's heart strings, and he found himself standing up and dumping the rice he had barely touched into his untouched bowl of soup and taking it out of the tray along with a spoon, heading straight for his lockers to get something, all while ignoring the stares he got and the shouts of his name. 

~~~

The cuffs of Jongin's uniform sleeve barely covered his freezing fingertips no matter how much he tugged at the ends to pull them farther down. His breaths hitched and sped up before hitching again, a result from the cold that continuously nipped at his skin underneath his thin layers of clothing. His shoulders trembled and he could feel rough goosebumps rising on his arms. 

His eyes fell back on the group sitting near the window of the cafeteria...but Kyungsoo was no longer there. He swore he had seen Kyungsoo there just a minute ago. He had been sitting there, happy and smiling with people who were friend-worthy and seemed nice.

He felt like he had done the right thing, pushing Kyungsoo away the other week. If not, he wouldn't have been smiling and enjoying himself. Kyungsoo was nice. He deserved friends like himself, people that clicked with him, unlike Jongin who couldn't speak, couldn't communicate, couldn't do anything with his life and was a waste of space. 

More puffs of cold air came out from Jongin's nostrils when he tightened his arms around his knees to keep warm. He could've stayed inside, but there were too many people in the halls, and this was the only place Jongin could think of to escape to. 

Just then, something slightly heavy was being wrapped around his shoulders, and the cold was suddenly bearable. Before he could turn his head to see who granted him with a thick coat, the person plopped down next to him with a sigh.

Speak of the devil. "Hey, Jongin," Kyungsoo said, smiling that same smile he had on when talking to those other students. He was showing it to the wrong person. Someone like Jongin didn't deserve that smile directed at them. 

Glowering, Jongin shoved the coat off his shoulders and moved to stand up, anything to avoid Kyungsoo, but the latter wasn't having any of that. He immediately grabbed Jongin's hand and tugged him back down before grabbing the coat and wrapping it around his shoulders again. "Keep it on. You looked cold." His hands were so warm, and so was his coat—Jongin didn't even realize he was slightly leaning into Kyungsoo's side.

Jongin would've stubbornly pushed the coat off his shoulders had it not been for the bowl of warm soup that was being shoved into his hands. A bowl of warm soup with hot steam curling out of it in tendrils was sitting in his hands. Warm soup. Warm food. Something warm. He couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten something warm, something fulfilling. His stomach ached at the sight. 

But he hated looking desperate, looking like he needed help. He was _fine_. He didn't need a bowl of hot soup to stay on his feet, didn't needed this coat to keep him warm, didn't need _Kyungsoo_. He tried to tell Kyungsoo he didn't want it, tried to shove it back into his hands. "I don't—"

But Kyungsoo was close to being fed up. "Stop arguing and being stubborn and just eat. I'm giving that to you along with my coat. The least you could do is be grateful." He paired it with a slight whine and fake pout before coming to the conclusion that this wasn't going to work. Instead, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. He took the bowl out of Jongin's hand and scooped up a spoonful before positioning it in front of Jongin's lips. "Say 'Ah.'" He tried to demonstrate, like Jongin was some child, holding the spoon so close to Jongin's mouth it was barely grazing the skin.

Despite trying to argue, Jongin couldn't deny that the soup looked so good, and very muscle in his body as practically screaming at him to just accept the food being offered to him. And Jongin finally caved and complied. 

Nothing beat the look of pure glee on Kyungsoo's features when he finally placed the spoon on Jongin's tongue, and the latter thought he would cry. He was flooded with images on when he was a kid, when he had someone to cook him hot meals. It wasn't blazing hot, so the warm slide of the liquid down his throat was refreshing, satisfactory. 

With one hand, Kyungsoo fixed the coat that was beginning to slide off Jongin's shoulders before going to feed him another spoonful. 

Something twisted in Jongin's gut and his heart felt funny; fuzzy. Like it was being...tickled. It had Jongin squirming and lightly scratching at his chest. He was being babied, Jongin realized. Handled with care like he was delicate. It was such a foreign feeling. He'd never—never been treated like this before. Like he was an actual human being who deserved to be loved and cared for. It set a dull ache in his gut that had the back of his eyelids stinging. 

He'd never felt like this before.

Halfway through, Jongin felt something akin to embarrassment and yanked the bowl out of Kyungsoo's hands to feed himself. It was a start, Kyungsoo thought. There was some progress made; Jongin actually accepted instead of pushing it away. 

Kyungsoo looked up at the sky, the blue overtaken by the grey and the foggy clouds looking heavy, as if it were about to collapse on them sooner or later. "Why are you sitting outside in this weather when you're cold? You could've stayed inside."

The only thing Kyungsoo got was the sound of the slightly howling wind and a spoon scraping against the inside of a bowl, but he wasn't expecting a response, anyways. So it was clear how taken aback Kyungsoo was when he suddenly heard Jongin answer. "...Too many people inside. Wanted to be away from them." 

And Kyungsoo understood that. There were times where Kyungsoo got like that, too, where he just wanted to be left alone and felt stifled surrounded by a throng of people. But Jongin, he probably left like that everyday. Like not enough air was passing through his lungs as he stood in the middle of a bustling area, people left and right screaming in his ear as they talked to each other, all trying to climb over the loud voices' of others. 

The bowl of soup was placed on the grass between them, and when Kyungsoo looked, he came to see that it was licked clean. How starved Jongin must have been.

It was euphoric, to say the least. Jongin didn't remember the last time his stomach had been this full, and paired with the heavy weight of warmth the coat was providing him, he felt himself drift closer to Morpheus' arms. And this time, his sleep didn't seem so fearful.

The shrill sound of the first bell rang, signalling that students should start packing up and heading to class, but it barely fazed Jongin, though next to him, Kyungsoo was stiffening and bolting upright.

"Have to get to class," he mumbled to himself before turning to Jongin. "Are you...not going to class?"

Jongin was never one for feeling guilty. What was the point, anyway? Never had he felt guilty for skipping class, but for some reason, with Kyungsoo asking him that question, he felt like a child caught going behind his parents' backs and stealing the last cookie in the cookie jar. Why was he suddenly struck with guilt? 

Hesitantly, Jongin shook his head, and Kyungsoo just smiled. "Okay, I guess I'll see you later then? Or whenever we see each other again." With that, Kyungsoo jogged off to the door, rushing to get to his next class.

Just as Kyungsoo's figure disappeared into the distance, the comfortable weight on his shoulders suddenly reminded him—

He hadn't returned Kyungsoo's coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's still alive. Surprisingly. Gosh updating takes so much longer now; I'm a bit disappointed, but I don't have enough time to sit down and try to write out chapters with all my homework. Hope you understand. See you next time.


	8. Chapter 7

In the end, something inside Jongin began urging him to at least go to his last period class, and astonishingly, he had succumbed to that voice inside that forced his legs to drag him to his last class, leaving the desolate exterior of the school behind. He was pretty sure everyone's jaws had dropped to the floor as they were stunned when Jongin had walked in, whispers beginning to surface before the teacher shushed them and pulled the attention back to her. 

Kyungsoo's coat still sat snugly around his shoulders. Jongin had half a mind to shove it off and leave it on the floor—just to save his embarrassment from enhancing—but decided against it. The coat looked so prim and clean, and it wasn't his property, anyways. Plus, the coat provided him with so much warmth, and Jongin didn't even realize he was burying his face into its collar. The thick coat smelled heavily of laundry detergent, all fresh and smelling like lavender. It was so...Kyungsoo. So much like Kyungsoo that his stomach fluttered and tingled. But as soon as the feeling came, Jongin forced it down. 

The period ended quickly, and Jongin sped out of there. He hadn't done anything in the class, but just being there, being present, filled his chest with a sense of pride. 

The coat still around his shoulders, Jongin headed back to the tree in the field. He wondered if Kyungsoo was there, and if he was, if Jongin should return his coat. A part of him felt damp and soggy about having to return his coat, but the more logical part of him wanted to return it as quickly as possible because there was no way he was going to walk around with someone else's coat. 

The spot around the tree was empty. Jongin didn't like how his heart sagged.

~~~

Right when classed ended, Kyungsoo made a beeline for the school library. Instead of heading home early, he was planning on staying behind for a bit to get some work done. The Biology project was due soon, and something made Kyungsoo feel it would be better to work on school property rather than at home. At school, surrounded by other students and teachers, he was placed in full student mode where all he focused on was getting good grades. But at home, he'd be listening to his R&B music and snacking on chips while watching his melodramas—or what Chanyeol called his "period dramas"—and probably thinking about a certain someone.

Kyungsoo wondered if Jongin was doing the project. He wondered if Jongin did any work at school. 

There was that one spot at the very back of the bland library that Kyungsoo had more or less claimed as his own for no one seemed to ever sit there, anyway. There weren't many students in the library at that moment; a couple of students, a blondie with her brunette friend, were signing out books which Kyungsoo didn't even know people still read; a group of boys sat at one of the bigger tables while communicating in hushed voices; another student napped in the large chair with his sweater thrown over his torso to keep him warm.

At some point while he worked, the words on his laptop screen began blending into one another until it became a mixture of black and white. Words no longer easily flowed out of his fingertips onto the keyboard and into his PowerPoint, and Kyungsoo realized that maybe he needed a little break. He shut down his computer and stuffed it into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder and heading to the cafeteria in hopes that it was still open so he could grab a bite to eat. 

To his luck, they were still leaving the cafeteria open for another ten minutes, so Kyungsoo quickly grabbed himself a muffin and a bottle of sprite before heading outside for some fresh air. Food wasn't allowed in the library, anyway.

Curled up at the base of the tree in the field was Jongin, his face buried into Kyungsoo's coat while his hands loosely gripped the edges of the thick fabric to wrap around his body. Kyungsoo wasn't even surprised he was still here. He realized that Jongin never seemed to go home early. 

He had half a mind to approach Jongin and sit next to him, but the slight twitch in Jongin's curled-up form had Kyungsoo deciding against it. Jongin didn't look like he was asleep—more like he was trying, and failing, to sleep. 

Backing up, Kyungsoo spun on his heel and headed back inside. He could just eat in the hall. No big deal.

~~~

It was a few hours later when Jongin stirred in his spot before prying his eyes open. Heavy fog laid over the field, preventing him from seeing anything, but he still found himself squinting his eyes, unable to open them fully. 

His sleep was, once again, fitful. It wasn't the same nightmare again—more like he had been dunked underwater. He hadn't dreamt at all, yet his body had refused to completely shut down and let sleep take the wheel. His soul had rested somewhere between sleep and consciousness, not asleep but not awake either. No position had been comfortable for him, and had left him tossing and turning to find a position he could sleep in. 

He couldn't see the sun through the thick clouds and the grey fog, but he assumed it was pretty late judging by how desolate the school property looked. 

He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving his spot under the tree. A chilling breeze ran through him, causing him to shudder and pull the coat tighter around his form. As much as he felt embarrassed to admit it, he didn't want to return the coat to its owner. He wanted to believed it was because not a single coat of good quality sat in his closet, but the way he kept burying his face into the coat proved otherwise. Traces of alcohol could be found all over his house, the scent rubbing off on all of his clothes, so it was probably the heavenly clean smell cloaking the coat that had Jongin somewhat addicted to rubbing his nose into it. 

His legs ached from being folded up against his chest for so long, and his arms felt slightly numb. Oh, what he would do to, just once, sleep comfortably in Morpheus' arms. He didn't even know why he bothered to sleep anymore when all it left him with once he awoke was restlessness and more exhaustion. He dreaded going to sleep, yet he always seemed to fall asleep, anyway.

He headed down the steep concrete path that lead away from the school. Here, the fog wasn't as thick, and Jongin was able to find minuscule traces of the sun through the grey, and it was indeed late. The sun was almost setting, barely grazing the horizon. No one was on the path from what Jongin could see, almost all the students from his school having already left for home. 

Suddenly, there were footsteps behind him, heavy boots hitting the concrete. Jongin ignored it; it wasn't like he was the only one who ever walked this way back to his house. Someone walking behind him chewed their gum obnoxiously loud and crackled it in their mouth, and Jongin was hit with an odd sense of familiarity, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

Out of nowhere, his bruised side began to ache a bit. It still hadn't healed, even when all the other bruises had healed to the best of their ability.

The smacking of lips chewing gum grew louder, and something prickled Jongin's skin with unease. The sound of those weighted boots slamming the ground with each step, the cracking of their gum—but Jongin couldn't remember where he had heard it.

He didn't even have time to think back to last week and the weeks before because there was a hand twisting in his messy locks, tugging his head back and slamming him into a steel chest that knocked the wind out of Jongin's lungs.

Two guys advanced forward and made themselves present in front of him, and it finally clicked where Jongin had seen them. The blond jerk from the convenience store the week before with his unpleasant way of chewing gum, and his heavy boots that had left Jongin's side mangled and possibly shattered. The other two—the one next to the blond and the one with his hand fisted in Jongin's hair—he barely had any memory of, only recalling hazy images of raven-haired thugs with nose piercings and heavy traces of cigarettes lingering on their clothes. 

The blond one cackled as he got way too close to Jongin's face for his liking. He could practically smell the cigarette scent that laid flat on his tongue—he probably had it only a short while ago. Jongin fought the urge to barf. "I told you it was him. Didn't I tell you I recognized him?" He then turned to Jongin. "Long time no see, sweetheart. I see your face has healed up nicely from before."

At that, Jongin tried to duck his head and shake off the hand in his hair, which only encouraged whoever it was behind him to yank his head back harder. Jongin hissed at the burn in his scalp. 

"What about the bruise here? Did it heal?" There was a harsh jab to his injured ribcage, and Jongin doubled over, gasping. He heaved, tears almost springing into his eyes at how he felt like his side was tearing, a whimper barely shoved down his throat. If he hadn't been held onto by his hair, his legs would've given out.

The gang seemed to enjoy watching Jongin struggle to breathe, laughing in his face. It brought back middle school memories of when the people he had once considered friends would steal his stuff, or when they laughed at him when he tried to voice out his problems, calling him a wimp and to grow up because men _weren't like that_. 

"Aw, is our little sweetheart in pain?" Chewing his gum in Jongin's face, the blondie looked down at his chest, where his name tag was hanging on his school uniform. "Jongin? That's your name? Such a cute name."

Jongin was disgusted at how his name had rolled off his tongue with such ease. He didn't think he'd ever hated his name more than now. 

Kyungsoo's jacket had slipped off his shoulders, onto the dirty concrete path. Unlike how it had slipped from his shoulders, it wouldn't slip from his mind as the fabric was being stepped on, even when he was getting shoved into the concrete wall lining the path. Even when a hand trailed down to his neck and a kick was sent to his injured ribs, he could only keep his eyes on the jacket laying on the concrete floor, dirtied with footprints and wrinkled around the edges, and his chest burned harder than his ribs.

_It's Kyungsoo's. It can't get dirty. He'd be upset with me. _

He no longer felt warm.

~~~

Exhausted, Kyungsoo rested back in his seat. He had spent almost two hours in the library trying to work on his project. The group of guys had already left; the spot in the corner of the library was also vacant, the guy napping there not too long ago having also taken his leave. Kyungsoo was alone.

Reading over his work, Kyungsoo decided that it wasn't going to get much better than it already was, and he shut down his laptop before stuffing it into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He paused the song he had been playing—_Valkyrie_ by Oneus—and tugged his earbuds out of his ears before stuffing them along with his phone into his bag. 

The halls were also deserted when he exited the library, only a few students left behind due to clubs or, in the football team's case, after-school practice. Some teachers roamed the halls while others were still in their classes grading papers. 

Outside, he passed the field again. His eyes envisioned a lump sitting at the base of the large tree, probably dozing off, but when he blinked again, he realized that it was just his imagination. Jongin had already left. Kyungsoo frowned sullenly. He had really wanted to see Jongin before he left. Oh well, it couldn't be helped now. Jongin was probably long gone by now.

He made his way around the back of the school to the parking lot where his car awaited, and he pulled out of his keys from the mini pocket on the side of his bag. Hopping in, he threw his bag in the passenger seat and stuck the key into the ignition, starting the engine of the car. He slowly backed out of his parking space and headed out of the lot.

His car had just rolled out of the parking lot entrance when he spotted something in the distance. It was just off to the left of his car, down the steep path. The minimum light provided from the setting sun wasn't much help, and the fog that had hung around all day made it even worse, but Kyungsoo could just make out a few silhouettes: one smaller one while the others were larger, bulkier. He could barely make out what they were doing, but when one of them was sent flying into the concrete wall, Kyungsoo realized. His eyes caught the heap of thick fabric thrown on the concrete, and the design looked oddly familiar, almost as if it were his coat—

Kyungsoo didn't even realize Jongin's name had left his mouth as he bolted out of his car, uncaring of how he had left it blocking the entrance of the parking lot. 

~~~

The remaining energy in Jongin's body seeped out of him as he struggled to sit up only for his shaking arm to collapse and send him colliding with the concrete again. Something was burning. Some part of his body was burning up with pain, but Jongin couldn't quite pinpoint it. Was it his leg? Maybe his bruised side? Or was it everything? 

Kyungsoo's coat that laid only a few feet away seemed so far in the distance. 

One more kick to his ribs hit the nail in the coffin. He wasn't sure if he was being ripped open or stitched back together at this point. His fingers uselessly tried to grab something, not that there was anything in its way for it to grab hold of. His eyelids felt droopy, and pairs of black boots were the only things in his hazy line of vision. 

He barely heard anything at this point, and every footstep in front of him and breath he let out sounded muffled, but he could've sworn he heard his name from somewhere. His mind suddenly flashed with images of Kyungsoo, and his voice rang in his ears. A figure appeared out of the corner of his eye, someone shorter, with a back view and voice that seemed oddly like—

_Kyungsoo? _

What was he doing here? Why was he still at school?

He shouldn't be here. This was Jongin's mess. They were his problem. So why was Kyungsoo throwing a punch at one of them in Jongin's place? He was going to get hurt. He didn't seem to stand a chance. 

Jongin tried reaching for him, fingers shaking with the effort. He tried to yell at him to leave it to him and get away from him.

It didn't take long for it to register in Jongin's head that Kyungsoo was trying to protect him. Why would Kyungsoo go out of his way to protect him, though? A nobody like Jongin, someone who wasn't worth anyone's time and shouldn't be spent time on. 

But Kyungsoo was kicking one of them despite the obvious height and size difference, and Jongin felt something strange in his chest, something he had never felt before. 

_Don't want you to get hurt. Shouldn't be here. It's my mess, my problem. Please just leave. I'm not worth it. I'm not worth protecting._

His aching pupils couldn't look up at their faces anymore, and Jongin was left to resort back to looking at their shoes, trying to make sense out of what was happening. It wasn't hard to tell which shoes were Kyungsoo's—he was the only one not wearing boots. Amidst all the screams in his head at Kyungsoo to leave and not get hurt, Jongin couldn't help but think that Kyungsoo had good taste in shoes. He was probably rich, too. 

His mouth dropped open and he tried to form words, but the only words he could form were stuck in his mind, unable to be voiced out loud. He just hoped that by some miracle, Kyungsoo could hear, or possibly feel, his worries and stop. 

Jongin couldn't continue watching, and his eyelids eventually shut. It felt like only a few seconds had passed when he opened them again, but when he did, there was a figure sitting next to him, shaking his shoulder. Kyungsoo was yelling something, and Jongin desperately tried and struggled to read the shapes Kyungsoo's lips were forming. His ears buzzed and his eyes clouded over. From what little Jongin could see, Kyungsoo looked funny from Jongin's angle. If he had the energy to, he would've giggled. 

Sleep weighed down on him, and as much as he wanted to stay awake, succumbing to the hands tugging him down felt so much easier, and so Jongin let himself go, the last thing he saw being Kyungsoo's lips. Once again, Jongin tried, and failed, to read his lips before his mind shut down completely. 

~~~

Everything was white.

Wait no. There was a flash of yellow.

Something hummed in his ears. Buzzing. Was there a bee?

Someone seemed to be calling his name.

In the distance, there was a steady beeping sound. _Beep, beep, beep_. 

His chest rattled sharply when he inhaled, and it almost felt like his lungs had been punctured by his ribs. He hoped not.

The call of his name again in the distance sounded dunked underwater. Was he drowning? 

There was the call of his name again, much clearer than before, and this time, Jongin was sure he wasn't drowning. 

Voices echoed around him, pounding in his head, each muffled word drilling in his brain. His skull felt like it was being cracked open. He tried to voice his discomfort, but no one could hear him. _Stop talking_, Jongin tried to shout. _Please stop. It hurts. My head hurts so much. _

"Jongin, are you awake?" Kyungsoo's voice called. 

Jongin wished to answer him, say he's awake, he's fine, but then he was dunked underwater again, and everything buzzed in his ear, his body weighed down on him. 

He drifted off again.

~~~

There was more white. Another flash of yellow.

This time, Jongin's ears no longer buzzed, and the headache had died down. His body didn't feel like lead anymore.

His vision cleared up when he opened his eyes, slowly but surely, and the first face he saw was Kyungsoo's, worriedly chewing on his bottom lip as he sat in a chair pulled up by the bed Jongin was laying on. With his eyes closed, Kyungsoo still hadn't noticed that Jongin was awake.

Slowly, Jongin took in his surrounding. The air smelled thickly of disinfectant and alcohol, and also anaesthetic. The walls enclosing him were all white, from the floor to the ceiling, with absolutely no colour. He was in a hospital room, Jongin realized. The heart rate monitor next to his bed constantly beeped while another machine showed his vital signs. The needle in his hand hooked him up to an IV drip. There was a mini couch on the other end of the room up against the wall, and slung over it was Kyungsoo's coat, still slightly dirty but dusted off. 

Through his parched throat, Jongin tried to form words, only for a simple groan to slip out, but the sound didn't go unheard by Kyungsoo because in just a second, his head shot up and his eyes popped open. 

"Oh god, Jongin, are you awake? Can you hear me?" Kyungsoo fussed, hovering over Jongin. 

Jongin wanted to complain about his dry throat. It felt like he hadn't had water in years. "W-W...a...ter," he managed to get out. Kyungsoo seemed to understand because he stood up and rushed to his bag to grab the half empty bottle of water he had brought with him to school. Seating Jongin up in his spot proved to be a difficult task. Jongin's lungs felt like they were collapsing and his side throbbed, but they managed to figure it out, and Kyungsoo helped Jongin tip the bottle back to quench the latter's thirst. 

A young doctor trailed in not long after with a female nurse by his side. The name on his name tag read _Kim Minseok_. He had slightly pinched eyes, giving him a feline appearance, and with his smooth-looking skin and light brown hair and boyish smile, he didn't look a day over eighteen.

"Jongin, you're finally awake," Minseok said, fiddling around with his clipboard while flashing Jongin a grin. "We were wondering when you would wake up."

_What? Is it really that late?_ Jongin glanced outside, and sure enough, the sun had set long ago past the horizon. He wondered just how long he had been out of it. 

"You're his guardian, right?" Dr. Kim directed at Kyungsoo. Jongin frowned. Obviously Kyungsoo wasn't his guardian; they literally were the same age. But before he could retort, Kyungsoo was nodding. "Can I speak with you out in the hall please?"

Kyungsoo placed his water bottle down next to Jongin on the bed. "I'll be right back, okay?" Kyungsoo said, as if Jongin would care whether he left or not. When the hospital room door slid shut behind him, though, Jongin felt empty.

"Is something wrong, Dr. Kim?" Kyungsoo asked. Judging by the doctor's expression, it couldn't be anything good. Kyungsoo felt slightly sick to his stomach. 

"We ran some tests on Jongin while he was unconscious and came across these." Dr. Kim handed his clipboard for Kyungsoo to see.

There was no way this could be what Kyungsoo thought it was. He stared at the image in front of him—the image of Jongin's torso—and the blotches that covered him, some small and faded while others were huge and almost black. "Are these...what I think they are?"

The answer Kyungsoo got was the one he hadn't wished to hear. "They're bruises. Lots of them. They're not just from today. There are old faded ones while others look a few days old. They're all over him. Not only that, but it seems something's wrong with his ribs, too. We suspect it might be fractured or broken ribs, which could be very harmful for him. For some people, their injured ribs puncture their lungs and cause breathing problems. Luckily Jongin doesn't seem to have problems breathing, but we'll have to run a few more tests to be sure his ribs are actually damaged."

The doctor's words bounced around in his head as he headed back into Jongin's hospital room, echoing off every corner and repeating itself over and over again in his ears.

A pillow was propped up behind Jongin to keep him sitting up, and his eyes followed Kyungsoo as the latter sat down in his previous spot. 

There was a small bruise on the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose, his lips split and a bandaid was wrapped around the knuckles on Kyungsoo's right hand. "You got hurt," Jongin mumbled, his eyes on the bandaid on Kyungsoo's knuckles. 

Catching where Jongin was staring, Kyungsoo just laughed a bit. "Yeah, busted them when I punched that one guy in the face. He was definitely harder than he looked."

Kyungsoo smiled, but Jongin didn't find it funny at all. His heart fell to his stomach. Kyungsoo got hit because of him. It was all his fault. Why would Kyungsoo do that for him? Why did he even think about saving Jongin? "You shouldn't have done that," Jongin sternly said. 

"A 'thank you' would be more appreciated," Kyungsoo teased, but Jongin's eyebrows knit together even more, and Kyungsoo laid a hand on Jongin's knee, leaning closer. "Hey," he said, voice gentle and quiet, "if you're blaming yourself right now—don't. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault but those thugs'. They came at you first, and it was my choice to interfere." He didn't leave any more room for Jongin to wallow in his guilt. "But Jongin, your bruises..."

Jongin's breaths quickened and he stiffened. _Don't ask me that. You don't need to know. It's not important_. It didn't matter. His bruises didn't matter. The less Kyungsoo knew, the better it would be. Knowing more about Jongin was the first step to worming his way into Jongin's life, and he didn't want that. He couldn't have that. He had worked so hard to build his walls, to keep everyone on the other side where they would never be able to reach him. He was doing so well, but why was Kyungsoo so close to digging his way through? Unlike everyone else, Kyungsoo was making it more difficult for Jongin to keep his protective shell on, banging on it, demanding entrance, and Jongin hated how he was slipping. He hated the gross fluttering of his heart and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. He never felt it before, and he despised it. He was slowly lurking out of safe territory, and he needed to get back quickly before it was too late.

Catching how silent Jongin had gone, Kyungsoo tried assuming. "Do you get into fights often?" There was no answer, not even a tick of muscle movement on Jongin's face. With the minimal reaction, Kyungsoo suspected that wasn't it. If it had been, there would've been more reaction, unless Jongin was a really good actor. He tried again. "Is there something going on at...home?" This time, Jongin's hands curled into fists and his linked fingers tightened around one another, and Kyungsoo knew he was hitting something, but Jongin wouldn't tell him like this. He didn't trust him enough. He wouldn't open up to Kyungsoo and he didn't know how he was supposed to slip into Jongin's life anymore.

Kyungsoo smiled defeatedly. "It's okay if you don't tell me. Maybe some other day when you're ready." There was the hint of a question at the end of Kyungsoo's words. Jongin knew he wasn't going to ever be ready to tell Kyungsoo, but he had a feeling Kyungsoo knew that, too. 

"I'm tired," Jongin said instead, hoping to quickly change the subject. He no longer cared about the time; his father would be knocked out at this time, anyway. And even if he wasn't, he wouldn't beat Jongin up. He'd be too out of it, or just exhausted. 

"Oh, right right, you should sleep." Kyungsoo shot up out of his seat to adjust Jongin's pillow and help him lay down comfortably. 

As Kyungsoo fiddled with Jongin's covers to make sure he was tucked in and warm, Jongin thought that even if he didn't let Kyungsoo into his life, it was at least nice that he was helping Jongin out this much. This was the least Jongin could let him do, after all his feeble attempts at trying to find his way into Jongin's safe zone. 

It wasn't long before Jongin knocked out, too exhausted from everything to really put an effort into staying awake. It was late at night—almost eleven—but Kyungsoo had no thoughts of leaving Jongin's side. He'd wait here until Jongin woke up, and then he'd take him home.

Sweat collected on Jongin's forehead and matted his long hair down to his skin. Kyungsoo wondered if Jongin ever got irritated with how long and unruly his hair was. He just wanted to brush his hair out of his eyes, and Jongin was asleep, so Kyungsoo did just that. He brushed Jongin's bangs away, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of Jongin's face, and the view he got was what he hadn't been expecting. 

This was the first time he had ever seen Jongin's face clearly, his head having always been down and his mop of hair always making it difficult to see anything. He'd never known Jongin was so...pretty. His prettily curled eyelashes almost touched his eyelids. The warm, soft curve of his nose lead down to plump lips that were, although chapped and split, still appealing. He wondered just how appealing his lips would be if they were rosy and no longer chapped. Those lips then led down to a chiseled jawline that was paired with his prominent cheekbones. Despite the slight discolouration in Jongin's skin and the bruise on his swollen cheek and the cut on his chin, he was still gorgeous.

No one had ever warned him that Jongin would probably be the most beautiful boy he had ever laid eyes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please help me update faster. It's taking way too long to update nowadays.


	9. Chapter 8

It was well past eleven in the morning when Jongin arose again, feeling less lightheaded and a bit more light-hearted. The tearing ache in his side had shrivelled into a dull throb, much more bearable. Laid out on the couch was Kyungsoo, his legs pulled up to his chest and his right arm pillowing his head. Light exhales left his mouth as he peacefully slept on.

He really stayed for Jongin. It was so hard to believe. Not only had he brought Jongin to the hospital after he had passed out, but he had also stayed the night despite how uncomfortable sleeping on the couch would be. No one had ever done that for him. 

There was that fuzzy feeling again—the one that tugged and played with his heartstrings. It tickled his heart until Jongin was flinching. Every time he felt it, the warmth of it grew stronger. The feeling swelled constantly in his heart, and it irked Jongin how he couldn't put a name to the feeling. And Kyungsoo always seemed to be the one triggering this feeling. 

It was late; he had to leave before Kyungsoo woke up and got all up in his face again. Slowly, Jongin pushed the covers back and slid his feet off the bed, only for the mattress to creak, squeaking unpleasantly. His mind on full alert, Kyungsoo's eyes popped open to see Jongin trying to leave. Jongin shut his eyes and exhaled in exasperation. That was not part of the plan. 

Kyungsoo's cloudy eyes could barely see shit, especially without his glasses, but when the sleep faded from his eyes enough for everything to become the slightest bit clearer, he noticed Jongin's slumped form sitting up from the bed. The last sparks of sleep left his body as he bolted up onto his feet. "Oh Jongin, you're awake." Swallowing down his yawn, Kyungsoo wiped the dried up saliva on his chin while wrinkling his nose in disgust.

A force tugged at the corners of Jongin's lips at that.

"Are you hungry? I think they have a cafeteria here somewhere," Kyungsoo said before gesturing to the door. "Shall we grab something to eat?" He waited for Jongin to give the green light and when Jongin nodded, he grinned and headed out the door with Jongin hot on his heels, tugging his IV stand along. 

This was the first time he had ventured out into the halls of the hospital ever since he'd arrived. He always had a gist of what hospitals looked like—all white interiors from floor to ceiling, a pure and clean colour to wash away the heavy darkness in the patients' hearts—but he'd never actually stepped foot in one before. It was so much bigger than he had imagined, and so much neater. One of the nurses bowed to them as they passed with a smile, her hand holding a clipboard while the other was gripped in the small hand of a little girl about the age of nine. A wooden bench off to the side held an old lady with an IV stand quite similar to Jongin's. Patients wandered the halls, some in wheelchairs, some with IV stands, and some of them weren't in need of anything at all. All clothed in white gowns, the sight retched at Jongin's heart. Oddly enough, he didn't feel so out of place amongst them. 

A few more sharp turns down a couple of halls Jongin didn't even bother paying attention to, Kyungsoo was leading him into the cafeteria. The large spacious area held white circular tables surrounded by chairs, several tables all lined in perfectly straight rows. Everything was so white—it was almost nauseating. A middle-aged woman with dark brown hair sat at the far end of the cafeteria, sipping her hot soup while smiling as the man in front of her animatedly chatted away at something. Her husband, probably. 

Kyungsoo dragged Jongin to a vacant table near the windows, which Jongin was grateful for because he had a thing for sitting close to windows.

"Want me to get you something?" Kyungsoo asked the moment he sat down in the chair across from Jongin. "What do you want?"

Jongin wasn't too sure what he liked. He'd never tried hospital food before, but at this point, anything would be fine. He was just starving. He thought about the soup the lady had been eating earlier, the way the heat rolled off the bowl in tendrils. It looked so warm and tasty.

"You want soup?"

Jongin hadn't even realized he'd said it out loud, but there was no point denying it when Kyungsoo had heard him so he just nodded.

While Kyungsoo left to get their food, Jongin took interest in boring holes into the polished surface of the tables in place of looking around and taking in his surroundings, not that there would be much to look at, anyways. Despite the long sleeves of the hospital gown and the warmth provided from the heaters, Jongin still found himself sitting on his hands to keep them warm. They'd always been clammy yet cold, even during hot weathers. His mother always used to tell him that as a kid.

Bile had begun to rise in his mouth at the thought of the one person he hated more than his father, but Kyungsoo was back, setting a tray down in front of him with warm soup and rice, and Jongin forced himself to shut his mind off in favour of eating. A wandering mind would only serve as a nuisance for when he tried to get food down his throat.

On Kyungsoo's tray, Jongin observed that he had also gotten himself a bowl of soup along with salad and meat. 

Jongin dipped his spoon into the soup and gingerly placed it in his mouth. The warmth of the liquid on his tongue sent burning heat into his veins and cold limbs. He quickly shoved another spoonful into his mouth. The soup was like an alternative for Kyungsoo's jacket: keeping him warm and cloaked.

Sipping his soup, Kyungsoo wrinkled his nose in displeasure. "This soup isn't that good. It's lacking in salt and needs a bit more pepper. I could definitely cook better than this. Don't you think?" His question seemed to pass through deaf ears because Jongin was too busy wolfing down his soup. The ends of Kyungsoo's lips curled up in an endeared smile. "Well at least someone seems to be enjoying it."

Jongin wasn't sure which part of the soup Kyungsoo found distasteful—it tasted great to him. But maybe that was due to his lack of knowledge when it came to food. It wasn't like he'd eaten home cooked food since his mother left—almost ten years ago. He wasn't sure he remembered what home cooked food tasted like anymore. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, probably ate his own handmade food everyday. 

Bellies full, both men walked back to Jongin's hospital room where Dr. Kim was waiting. Upon hearing the door slide open, Dr. Kim looked up from his clipboard and flashed his boyish grin at them. Jongin still refused to believe he was anywhere over a day older than eighteen. "Jongin, Kyungsoo, there you are. I was waiting for you both."

Kyungsoo grew sheepish. "Sorry, we should've probably told someone we were going to go out to eat breakfast."

"We were going to have our nurses deliver breakfast for you but you're both probably way too full now." Holding his clipboard tighter, the smile from Dr. Kim's face washed away. "Anyways, we came here to pick Jongin up to run some tests on him."

Jongin frowned. He hadn't heard anything about tests. His knowledge on hospitals and their functions wasn't a whole lot, so he wasn't sure what tests they meant, and what kind, but there was nothing that needed testing. Or that he assumed.

It was as if Kyungsoo had read his mind, or just knew how to read his expression, because he gripped Jongin's upper arm gently, feeling it stiffen under his palm before Jongin sagged. "They want to run a couple of tests on you before we leave just to see if if there's anymore damage on you."

Jongin thought about his aching ribs. Maybe that's what it was about. _Will it hurt?_ he thought. 

Kyungsoo's hand soothingly ran up and down Jongin's bicep. "Don't worry; it won't hurt," and Jongin realized that he had, once again, let something slip from his mouth without knowing. He seemed to be doing that quite a bit today. What was wrong with him lately? Maybe some part of his head was cracked which was allowing all his thoughts to flow out of his mouth instead of staying put where they were supposed to be.

~~~

It was about an hour—or maybe two—when Jongin's tests were all over and he was being wheeled back into the hospital room in the wheelchair they had taken him out in. The parting look Jongin had given had Kyungsoo wanting to follow him and hold his hand throughout everything, provide him with a warm sense of security, knowing that out of all those nameless faces wearing white that surrounded him, there would be one face he could pick out in the crowd and trust. But when Kyungsoo had asked if Jongin needed assistance, he had just scowled and turned his head, throwing him a curt "I'm fine on my own" before he left the room. But he wasn't fine on his own. There'd been uncertainty and discomfort in his gaze when he'd left, the fear of being the centre of attention of swarming unrecognizable faces.

He hadn't been able to sit still the duration of the time Jongin had been away—worried that he'd be scared shitless. Jongin was perfectly capable of handling himself, Kyungsoo knew that, yet he still worried for him. So when Jongin returned, Kyungsoo couldn't help but release a big sigh of relief. 

"Hey, how was it?" Kyungsoo asked, trying to ease the heaviness Jongin had carried with him into the room. "Was it okay?"

Jongin looked at Kyungsoo through his bangs and shrugged. His eyes through his bangs sent Kyungsoo back to the night before, when he had pushed Jongin's hair out of his face and had probably the biggest epiphany of his life. 

"Not a big deal," Jongin responded, voice hushed as he picked up his bag and rummaged through for something.

While talking, Kyungsoo noted that Jongin rarely ever seemed to use full sentences. 

Jongin kept searching through his bag, frowning, and then scanning the room. "What are you looking for?" Kyungsoo said. 

"My clothes."

"You're not leaving, are you?" Jongin's silence answered everything. "You can't leave now; you should stay here for a little bit to stay safe and recover. You're still injured, and who knows where those guys are right now—"

But Jongin just straightened up and glared. Full on _glare_. It was like a punch to the ribs, and Kyungsoo took a step back. "It doesn't _matter_. I don't need to be here. I'm perfectly _fine_."

He managed to hiss every word out through his gritted teeth, and Kyungsoo didn't know how else he was supposed to contribute to his argument. Jongin was just too stubborn; he wouldn't listen, anyway. 

Jongin found his clothes thrown on the couch on the other side of the room, and he shouldered past Kyungsoo to get them. His fingers landed on the hem of his hospital gown when he paused and gazed over at Kyungsoo impatiently. 

For a few seconds, it didn't register in Kyungsoo's head what he was waiting for until he realized. The moment it clicked, he felt his cheeks flame as he whirled around and stared at the opposite wall as he listened to the shift and crinkle of the loose fabric fall off Jongin's body so he could pull on his own clothes. 

The rustling of clothes stopped, and Kyungsoo assumed it was safe to turn around. When he did, he saw Jongin pocketing his cracked phone and slinging his bag over his shoulders. 

After Jongin practically snapped at him, Kyungsoo wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say, but he still worried. He wasn't even sure if Jongin was allowed to leave, but he seemed so desperate—desperate to get away from the white walls encasing him and away from the heavy lingering smell of antibiotics, and Kyungsoo didn't blame him. "Are you...are you sure you're okay?" Kyungsoo carefully said.

This time, Jongin didn't glance at him, but he ducked his head. "I'm...fine," Jongin murmured, his words soft, barely even there. The word _fine_ felt like lead on his tongue, like it was so wrong to say, as if he were lying through his teeth. A part of him throbbed—from ache, he supposed—due to the way he had glared at Kyungsoo. He hadn't meant to; he just didn't want to be treated like he was helpless. He was capable of handling himself, even without Kyungsoo. 

"I can handle myself," Jongin added softly after.

Kyungsoo smiled reassuringly. "I know. I know you can."

Right before they were about to leave the room, Dr. Kim walked in. He seemed shocked to see Jongin all dressed up. "Leaving already?"

"We thought it'd be best to leave now. Jongin wants to get some proper rest at home," Kyungsoo said.

Dr. Kim didn't argue, only changed the topic. "Well, we just submitted the tests and we'll probably get results in a couple of days. When we do, we'll make sure to phone you, okay?"

But then, Jongin thought solemnly, there was also the hospital bill. Where was he even going to get the money to pay? He'd heard that hospital bills were expensive. There was no way he could pay all that; he barely even had enough money to feed himself. 

Dr. Kim turned to Jongin. "Kyungsoo already paid your hospital bills, so you don't need to worry about that."

Jongin would've asked him to repeat himself, but he heard it loud and clear. A bit too clear. He just... didn't get it. He didn't get why Kyungsoo was helping him, why he lent him his coat, why he protected him, brought him to the hospital, or why he would even pay thousands of dollars for Jongin's hospital bill. 

He was still in a daze when Kyungsoo thanked the doctor and gently tugged Jongin out of the hospital. 

A gust of cool breeze rustled Jongin's thin uniform shirt, running through his hair and blowing the dark strands back. After breathing in the smell of anesthetic and medicine for almost twenty-four hours, it was refreshing to inhale the fresh, earthy scent of damp soil. Though the feeling didn't last long before Jongin began shivering. He missed Kyungsoo's coat already.

His house was so far from here, Jongin thought, sighing. He didn't even know which way to go to go back. But he was going to have to take any road and hope for the best. Maybe if he was lucky, one would lead him to the street his house was on.

His name was called before he could hit the streets, and when he whirled around, Kyungsoo was climbing into his car. "Where do you live? I'll drive you."

"But I can—" Jongin started, before slumping his shoulders. Arguing, Jongin knew, wouldn't work. If he was considered hardheaded, then Kyungsoo was equally as hardheaded, maybe even more. 

But it'd been so long since Jongin had last sat in a car. He didn't even remember when he'd last been in one, when he hadn't last travelled somewhere on foot. Awkwardly holding his bag to his chest as he sat in the front seat, Jongin couldn't keep the astonishment off his face. He vaguely remembered his mother owning a busted, rusty 2000's Toyota, but this was something totally different. 

An air-freshener hung on the rearview mirror. Jongin noted that there wasn't a single pile of garbage anywhere; everything was so neat and prim. There were no used tissues or empty soft drink cups sitting in the car's pockets and cup holders. The side pockets held a few books—some fictional, others non-fictional—but other than that, the car barely looked used. Even the exterior of it was clean and shiny. 

A part of him felt like he was being rude, but he couldn't keep his gaze from wandering. Kyungsoo caught the look on his face, and instead of being offended, he just wore a pleased smile. Not an arrogant one, like he knew his car was impressive, but a glad one, like he was proud that he could impress Jongin. 

The clock read one in the afternoon. They'd missed school. It didn't mean much, missing school, but Jongin was overcome by guilt. Kyungsoo had missed school to take care of him. 

"Hey, I just realized I don't know where your house in," Kyungsoo said bashfully. "What's your address?"

Jongin wasn't sure his house had an address, considering how it was located in a secluded part of the city in an alleyway everyone stayed away from. 

He instead opted for giving Kyungsoo discreet directions to lead him somewhere closet to his house but not exactly. He wouldn't be able to live down the embarrassment if Kyungsoo ever saw the state he lived in.

Pulling his car into the parking lot of the corner store, Kyungsoo parked. "You live around here?"

Jongin nodded as he undid his seatbelt. "I can walk from here."

But Kyungsoo began undoing his seatbelt, too, and grabbed his coat from the backseat. "I'll walk you."

"You don't have to—"

"But I want to." And he was giving Jongin those pleading eyes, the ones that told him not to deny him, and Jongin was weak.

No sooner had he stepped out of the car, Jongin was shivering from the cold, but as quick as the wind came, it was blocked out, and a familiar weight rested on his shoulders. Kyungsoo had draped his jacket over Jongin again.

"Thought you'd be cold," Kyungsoo said, flashing his signature smile in the form of a heart, and Jongin's heart did a funny backflip. 

They grew farther and farther away from the car as Jongin sauntered into the alley that led to his place. Neither of them talked, only listened to the sound of crunching leaves under their shoes. His house came into view at the very end, and Jongin had half a mind to flee. Maybe if he just pretended he didn't live here, everything would be okay. But his feet kept dragging him until he stood in front of his door, and Jongin kind of wanted to dig a hole and die. If Kyungsoo was surprised, he didn't show it. 

Unlike Jongin's expectations, Kyungsoo didn't look around or mention the broken appearance of the place he called his house. "So...I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"What? O-Oh yeah." Then Jongin remembered the jacket around his shoulders. "Wait your jacket—"

"Keep it. You need it more than I do." With one last smile and a wave, Kyungsoo walked off, leaving Jongin to stand in front of his door with only the current weight of the coat on his shoulders. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please tell me to stop dying.


	10. Chapter 9

Waking up the next day was tiring. Jongin woke up with every muscle in his body cramped, his arms aching and his back stiff from the cheap mattress. After spending a night at the hospital and getting a taste of what it was like sleeping in an actual bed on a decent mattress, his body wasn't ready to accept reality. 

Upon looking at himself in the mirror, Jongin grimaced. The bruise on his cheek had darkened slightly, nothing he wasn't used to but still unpleasant. His lips looked so chewed up, dried and peeling—nothing like Kyungsoo's plump pink lips. 

There had been chatter when Jongin had sauntered into class, calves aching from the walk to school, his body exhausted down to his bones more than usual. But the talk hadn't lasted that long; seeing Jongin in a wrecked state was nothing too off from the norm, so no one really questioned it, though Jongin knew they were curious. He'd placed his bag by his desk and laid on his folded arms, staring out the window at the open. 

There were no rays of sunlight poking out from amongst the thick clouds. The grass and tarmac were damp and wet from the rain the night before. Despite the hours of sunlight exposure the earth had gotten during the afternoon, once night had fallen, clouds had taken over the sun's position, pouring rain continuously pounding the earth's surface as thunder rumbled and lightning struck.

He hadn't slept well last night. The cracking thunder had shaken the walls of his room, rumbling in his ears. Lightning and thunder never liked Jongin, and the feeling was mutual. His mother had left on a night with thundering lightning. Whenever there was a rainstorm, the thunder brought with it the crash of the photo frame hung behind the door as his mother's retreating form slammed it behind her, the lightning carrying the flash of his father's belt as he cracked the leather against Jongin back, demanding where his mother was.

Jongin's fingers gingerly ran over the heavy dark bruises under his eyes from his lack of sleep. 

Footsteps echoed into the class, and a collective group of students gasped. A girl piped up. "Kyungsoo, what happened to your face?"

_It was Kyungsoo_. After everything, Jongin had believed that Kyungsoo wouldn't come to school—that he'd want to rest up for the day. His head whipped around to look at the latter, and he was sure his expression almost mirrored the expression of the class as a whole. The once small bruise on the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose had gotten bigger, darker—almost black in colour now. A fresh bandaid was wrapped around his knuckles, visibly broadcasting the damage he had taken for Jongin the other day. 

Kyungsoo shook his head and smiled, grimacing when his nose scrunched up and pressed against the bruise there. "Just got into a little fight. It's not a big deal."

Concerned murmurs rose up because even though Kyungsoo was new, everyone knew by now that Kyungsoo didn't seem to be the type—that he _wasn't_ the type—to get into little fights without a logical reason.

It made Jongin feel all that more ashamed, and he ducked his head, missing the worried glance Kyungsoo threw him.

~~~

People had caught on by now. It was obvious—as clear as day—where Kyungsoo's bruises came from. Everyone at least had the gist of what had happened, or what they thought had happened. Jongin wasn't surprised. With twinning bruises, anyone would be able to pick out what the situation might've been between Jongin and Kyungsoo.

There were multiple different rumours going around, some of them saying one thing, and others saying totally different things. Some people said that Jongin had stood up for Kyungsoo because he was getting attacked. Not many people believed that one—they didn't see Jongin as the type who would protect others. Some said that Jongin and Kyungsoo had probably gotten into a fight with each other, that they had some past beef, while others said that it was merely just a coincidence that their bruises were the same. 

Whatever story Jongin heard, he knew it wouldn't come close to reality. 

Others, though, didn't care for the stories. It didn't matter whether or not Jongin and Kyungsoo had fought each other or fought for one another because in the end, it was Jongin's fault. It was his fault that Kyungsoo had gotten hurt. It was his fault that Kyungsoo's handsome face got damaged. It was his fault for dragging Kyungsoo into his mess, into the mud along with him. 

And Jongin realized, with a heavy heart, that they were all right. He _had_ dragged Kyungsoo into his mess. This was why he always pushed people away. They would end up getting hurt one way or another, anyway, being with a mess of a person like Jongin.

He avoided Kyungsoo the whole day, steering clear of his path. A part of him ached—Kyungsoo had protected him, spent a whole night with him at the hospital, took him home, and Jongin wasn't even able to say a simple 'thank you.' But his cowardly side dominated, and he found himself walking in the opposite direction of Kyungsoo every time. 

He heard everyone talking about him in the halls. He felt the heavy weight of their stares on him. His heart thrummed and he tightened his grip on the straps of his bag and bent his head down farther, shameful. Each word drilled a special place for itself in Jongin's head, and carved a hole in his heart, forever engraved there. 

Something pricked the corner of his eyes, but Jongin refused to believe they were tears. He didn't cry. He never cried. Staying strong meant keeping it together. He wasn't weak—he just wasn't. 

So he took a deep, shaky breath and continued moving through the throng of people in the hall, neck aching from bowing his head.

~~~

Kyungsoo wasn't stupid. He heard things. And he wasn't pleased. The comments didn't do anything for him—each and every one of them just flew over his head—but _Jongin_...

How much were those words affecting him? Were they piercing him? Or was he dodging them like Kyungsoo was? He wanted to argue—that Jongin wasn't that kind of person, that they got it all wrong—but why would they listen? Everyone had already made it clear that Jongin was who they wanted to believe he was. 

Jongin was where Kyungsoo knew he'd always be. Legs pulled up to his chest behind the big oak tree in the field. He wasn't wearing Kyungsoo's jacket, and the wind slipped through his thin uniform. Even from a distance, Kyungsoo could see the shake of his shoulders as he shivered. He was so stupid, Kyungsoo thought. So stupid, it filled Kyungsoo with the urge to wrap him up in a blanket and provide him with some source of warmth, _anything_. 

He could've gone over, talked to him, maybe given him a shoulder to cry on, and reassure him. But he didn't, couldn't even bring himself to move.

The bell eventually rang for his third period class, and Kyungsoo cursed under his breath at the realization that he was late. Throwing one last lingering glance at Jongin's form, he bolted off in the opposite direction. 

~~~

It was days later of avoiding and disheartened glances and whispering when Kyungsoo finally got the call that Jongin's test results had come out. Kyungsoo wasn't sure if he was supposed to be ecstatic or nervous. 

Finding Jongin was probably the hardest part. His usual spot was empty, and after almost a half hour of circling the interior plus exterior of the school building, Kyungsoo finally found Jongin tucked in the corner of the school next to the dumpster, petting the top of a cat's head as he fed it something. The cat nuzzled Jongin's hand, licking up the remnants of the food.

Kyungsoo's heart practically melted at that, and cracked along with it. Melted because it was adorable, but cracked because even when he wasn't able to look after himself, Jongin still looked after others, even strays. 

As much as he didn't want to break the moment, they had to go to the hospital to see Jongin's test results. Kyungsoo kicked himself over and over and hoped it would be enough to settle his guilt. 

"Jongin!" Said boy didn't have enough time to hide the shock on his face and pull on his daily poker face, so his eyebrows had flown up under his long bangs. Feeling awkward, Kyungsoo lifted his hand up to wave. Jongin's expression loosened, not exactly showing any emotion, but not completely dead either. He pursed his lips together in which Kyungsoo interpreted as an attempt to smile. It was cute, really.

For a moment, Kyungsoo sort of forgot why he had been searching for Jongin in the first place. It took a few seconds of dazedly gazing at Jongin for his mind to click. "Oh! Um..." He pointed at his phone in his hand. "Well, the hospital called. They have your test results already. I was wondering if you'd want to come with me?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than Kyungsoo wanted to kick himself. Of course Jongin had to go with him; he didn't have a choice when they were _his_ test results. 

A second ticked by with Jongin only staring blank holes into Kyungsoo's shirt before petting the top of the cat's head one more time and stretching out his legs, cramped from kneeling down awkwardly for so long. No words were exchanged as Kyungsoo led Jongin to his car. His fingers twined and untwined as he tried to come up with a monologue in his head with no luck. He should say something—anything—to break the tension, but every time he turned to look at Jongin, his mind would shut off like a lightbulb. His mind always seemed to draw blanks when it came to the latter. 

Kyungsoo held the door open for Jongin and watched as he climbed in. The drive to the hospital stretched on, the silence long and agonizing. Meanwhile, Jongin paid him no mind, favouring the view outside over conversing. _Maybe I should turn on the radio_, Kyungsoo thought before quickly shutting down the idea. 1) He didn't know what kind of music Jongin liked and 2) maybe Jongin just wanted to sit in silence. 

Not once did Jongin glance at him. It seemed every time Kyungsoo thought he was finally taking a step closer to easing Jongin open, he would end up taking two steps back. Actually, scratch that and make it five steps. 

At a red light, Kyungsoo leaned back and chanced a glance at Jongin who still hadn't taken his eyes off the view outside. It wasn't like there was anything in particular to look at, but Jongin must've been a big lover of nature. That, or he was avoiding all eye contact with Kyungsoo, which was understandable. His eyes trailed down Jongin's defined jawline and his almond eyes peeking out from under his bangs. The bruise on his cheek was a bit darker than the other day, but it did nothing to hide his beauty. Kyungsoo couldn't help but think, _Pretty_. 

"Eyes on the road," Jongin snapped, and Kyungsoo whirled his head forward to see that it was a green light. Flustered, he stepped on the gas pedal.

"S-Sorry, I just thought I saw something on you." It was a lame excuse, Kyungsoo knew, but at least Jongin didn't question it or add anything else. Hoping he was in the clear, Kyungsoo sighed out. 

Pulling into the hospital's parking lot, Kyungsoo undid his seatbelt and stepped out of the car, Jongin following suite. It didn't take too long to find Dr. Kim's office, but when they did, he was already waiting for them. 

"Jongin, Kyungsoo, take a seat," Dr. Kim said, signalling to the seats in front of his desk, and he waited until the two were seated before continuing. "So, I do have the test results," he turned his computer screen to Kyungsoo and Jongin so they could see the x-ray, "and Jongin has no broken ribs, but they are slightly bruised. Bruised bones are not as severe as fractured bones, but they do take about a month or two to heal. I'd say to just look out for it and apply ice a few times a day to reduce swelling. And also, try not to sleep on that side."

Jongin remained emotionless throughout, but Kyungsoo slumped back into his seat in relief. He really thought Jongin had broken his ribs and that they'd punctured his lungs. 

"Well that's a relief, isn't it?" Kyungsoo said after they'd left Dr. Kim's office. 

"I guess," was Jongin's simple reply. 

"Hey, you have a phone, right?" Jongin nodded, and Kyungsoo held his hand out. "Can I see it for a second?"

It was hard to say no when Kyungsoo was expectedly waiting with his outstretched palm. Fishing through his bag, Jongin finally found his phone and reluctantly placed it in Kyungsoo's hand. The latter fumbled around with it for a bit, refusing to let Jongin see—not that Jongin was even trying to see. When Kyungsoo finally handed his phone back, Jongin saw that he had saved his number into his phone under the name _Soo Hyung_. 

Kyungsoo was older than him? Jongin never would've guessed, what with his short height and big doe eyes. 

"Call me, okay? Whenever you feel like you need help or your mind goes 'Should I tell Kyungsoo,' call me," Kyungsoo said. "I'm always available." _For you_, he wanted to add, but he wasn't trying to scare Jongin away. 

The fluttering in Jongin's chest made another comeback. He was sure Kyungsoo had seen how his contacts were bare of any friends or family. Kyungsoo's number was the first that had ever entered his contacts since he'd gotten this phone. No one had ever asked Jongin to call them, or wanted to help him when he needed someone.

But Kyungsoo was different, Jongin knew that. 

~~~

Like a few days before, Kyungsoo drove Jongin to the convenience store and walked him down the alley to his house. It didn't matter if Kyungsoo had seen his house before; Jongin was still overwhelmed by humiliation. But when Jongin stepped into his front yard, he was mortified to see his father sitting on the dry grass by the door, taking a few swigs from his nearly-empty bottle of alcohol. His shirt was only half-buttoned despite the freezing air most likely nipping at his bare skin. He was red in the face, cheeks flushed from too much alcohol. He was drunk. Again.

"Yo' again, fuckin' bathtard," his father slurred, the remnants of the alcohol dripping down his torso when he tipped it back.

Jongin's heart was heavy as it plummeted down to the pit of his stomach. It hurt more than his bruised ribs ever could. He bowed his head in shame. Once again, Kyungsoo was walking in on a humiliating scenario in his life. He shouldn't have seen this.

"I'm fine now, Kyungsoo. You can go home," Jongin said. He could feel the trembling of his pupils, the sting in his eyes, and he was thankful that his bangs were long enough.

Kyungsoo seemed wary, eyes flitting back and forth between Jongin and his father. "Jongin, I could—"

"Leave!" Jongin practically yelled. "You've overstayed your visit. Just...just go." His chest heaved, and he rapidly drowned in humiliation, his dignity sliding away, falling through his fingertips. There was the sound of shuffling feet as Kyungsoo contemplated, and Jongin's voice thinned out, barely above a whisper. "Kyungsoo, please."

His plead finally reached Kyungsoo's ears because the latter dejectedly nodded before leaving, the sink in his heart mirroring Jongin's own.

It was then that Jongin's father spoke up again. "Who wath that, yo' boyfend?" His father tipped his head back and laughed. "Give it uf; yo' don't detherve him."

_You're right_, Jongin thought, _I don't deserve Kyungsoo_. Instead he said, "He's not my boyfriend."

"What ith he, then? Yo' fuck toy? Dithguthting whore. You'll end up jutht like ya motha."

The words struck Jongin's core, and his eye ticked, his fists curling at his sides. "You have no fucking right to compare me to that woman."

His father took another swig of the bottle in his hand. "Why, ain't it true? Ya motha fucked around with othas behind my back when she wath 'till here. You rethemble her all too much. Yo' fate will end up like hers, too."

The stinging in Jongin's eyelids grew, and something scratched at his throat, trying to claw its way out, but nothing came out. No words, no scream.

The man before him smirked, eyes blinking irregularly. "Fucking pathetic rat. If thaz one thing ya motha an' I have in common, it'th our hatred for ya. Ya motha left ya, and I don't want yo' ugly ath around. Jutht do uth all a favour and die."

He couldn't show that it got to him. It's how his father got under his skin. He couldn't show that the words were affecting him as much as they did, not unless he wanted his father to use it to his advantage.

Jongin sped past his father and into the house, eyes glued to the dusty floor tiles until he reached his bedroom. Slamming his door, he let his bag slip from his shoulders before easing himself down onto his mattress. 

_Give it uf; yo' don't detherve him_. The words punched Jongin in the gut; he knew it was true, though. Someone like him didn't deserve someone like Kyungsoo. Handsome, sweet, caring Kyungsoo who everyone at school already fell in love with didn't deserve to ruin his life over someone tattered, disgusting, and ugly like him. 

Even if Kyungsoo liked him before, he obviously wouldn't now, not after seeing his drunk father, not after acquiring the situation Jongin lived in. Kyungsoo was probably disgusted with him, as he should be. He'd no longer be different; he'd treat Jongin the way every other student treated him. He'd force Jongin to delete his number from his phone, laugh at him and spread rumours, point fingers at him. He would no longer take care of Jongin or be kind and sweet anymore, and he would no longer smile at him the way he'd been doing up until now. 

Jongin believed he would cry, but the stinging in his eyes, although growing, didn't bring falling tears. Even if he willed himself to cry, nothing would come out. He just felt hollow and dry. Empty.

So instead, he opted for tugging his legs up against his chest, curling himself into a ball before slinging Kyungsoo's jacket over his torso, wishing the mattress would open up beneath him and rid him from this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again :)


	11. Chapter 10

_Footsteps resonated down the hall. Once again, Jongin found himself seated in the same wooden chair as in all his dreams. The same beer bottle was smashed, broken up into little glass shards in the corner of the room. There were no doors, but the echoing of the footsteps grew louder against the creaking wooden tiles. _

_Jongin's breathing sounded loud in his own ears. His body was trembling, but he didn't feel cold. He felt numb. _

_It was the same dream as always, but something felt odd. His heart felt weighted, like he was expecting something bad to happen. _

_Like every time, the ground opened up beneath him, and he fell. His hands clawed at the air, reaching for something—anything—to grab onto, but there was nothing there. Farther and farther down he fell through the abyss. _

_And in his mind, he pleaded that someone could hear his screams, even when he couldn't hear his own. _

_Suddenly, the air in his lungs were forced out, those same calloused hands squeezing around his throat and his mind blanked. Every second that ticked by, the hands tightened their grip on his neck, until Jongin felt faint. He let out a choked sound, but not because he was being strangled, but due to his sobs and his freshly-made tears. He couldn't see the tears, couldn't feel them in his eyes or feel them rolling down his cheeks, but he knew they were there. _

_The hands squeezed harder, and Jongin reached out and clawed at the air in search of the person, and instead of the air passing through his fingers like it always did, they made contact with something hard. It was someone's chest. Through the dark abyss, the pale, veiny hands on his throat grew visible and two arms came into view. Those arms then led up to shoulders, a chest, and a face. _

_The tears fell harder and Jongin's quivering pupils stared up at Kyungsoo, his mouth gaping open to call the latter's name, to beg him to stop. _

_This wasn't the Kyungsoo he knew. His dark, raging eyes were a contrast to Kyungsoo's big, warm eyes that would always watch Jongin with care. Kyungsoo was supposed to be sweet—he was supposed to care. He wouldn't do this to Jongin..._

He jolted awake, his hair matted to his forehead and his uniform clinging to his shirt from cold sweat. 

But he couldn't get the image of Kyungsoo strangling him out of his head. He couldn't forget his eyes, the hatred and disgust they held. It had only been a dream, but it was so vivid and clear in Jongin's mind, he almost mistook it as real. 

Whining under his breath, Jongin pulled himself up and pressed himself against the wall at the head of his mattress, legs cradled against his chest as he buried his face in his hands. There was the contracting of his throat as he tried to keep his tears at bay, though he knew in reality, there was nothing there. 

~~~

On Monday, Jongin couldn't help but avoid Kyungsoo's gaze every time their eyes met during class. Over and over, he tried to convince himself that it hadn't been Kyungsoo in his dream—that it had been someone else. Even if it had been Kyungsoo, it was just a dream—nothing but a figment of his imagination, something that couldn't come true—yet whenever he shut his eyes, there Kyungsoo was, pupils dark and eyes bearing rage and malice. 

Not only that, but after what Kyungsoo had seen the day before, there was no way he could ever even think about facing him again. 

He just hated that they sat right next to each other. 

Kyungsoo let out a sigh after another feeble attempt at getting Jongin to look over at him. He didn't understand why Jongin was avoiding him—_again_—after everything. After he witnessed a snippet of Jongin's interactions with his father, it was clear just how their relationship worked. He hadn't been able to sleep that night, couldn't even drive properly home. He'd worried that Jongin had gotten hurt, wondered if he was doing okay. Maybe Jongin hadn't slept well, either. It was so cowardly of him to have just walked away when Jongin needed help. 

But he had his number now. If Jongin was ever in trouble, he could easily contact Kyungsoo, knowing that he would always be there for him. A part of him tried to tell him that even if Jongin was in trouble, he probably wouldn't contact Kyungsoo. But he wanted to believe in him, wanted to believe that Jongin trusted him enough to let him know when he needed help. 

The dull knock of knuckles on his wooden desk startled Kyungsoo back to reality and he looked up to see four of the girls in his class standing in front of him, giggling into their hands and nudging one another with their shoulders, hands behind their backs. He was pretty sure the one with her ebony hair in dutch braids was Naeun, and the one to his left was the girl who sat in front of Jongin—Aeng Du. The other two, Kyungsoo felt sort of bad he didn't recognize them.

Jongin couldn't help but watch, chest flaring up in resentment. 

The girl with braids in her hair stepped forward and presented a pink box before her, neatly tied with a blue ribbon. "U-Um, we made some stuff for you."

"H-Home-made lunch," Aeng Du added.

The other three girls all held their hands out in front of them, each one of them holding a box similar to the first one, all wrapped up in vividly coloured ribbons. It made Jongin want to puke. Yet Jongin still watched, with a coiling stomach, as Kyungsoo smiled ambivalently, eyes flitting uncomfortably between the girls and the gifts in their hands. 

Aeng Du smiled nervously and more or less shoved the present in Kyungsoo's face. Jongin scoffed, and turned around, once again facing out the window. He wasn't going to keep watching. 

He didn't know why there was an unsettling coiling in his stomach, but it hurt. Of course there would be a swarm of girls taking a liking to Kyungsoo; he was a magnet, attracting others all around him with his kindness and good looks. Kyungsoo would look good with one of them, Jongin thought, embittered. They were all smart and kind and pretty and a lot of guys at school liked them—

But he waved those thoughts away. Whatever Kyungsoo did had nothing and would never have anything to do with him. He thought of the way Kyungsoo had smiled at them—all twinkly eyed and sweet. Jongin had been stupid as to think that look had been reserved for him. No, he definitely wasn't disappointed. There was nothing to be disappointed in. 

Soon the teacher slammed the door open, books in hand to start the next lesson, and Kyungsoo was left to deal with food containers on his desk as the four girls scrambled back into their seats. 

"For today's in-class assignment, you are asked to write at least three detailed paragraphs on what school does for you and how it benefits your life and your future with provided evidence." Half the class groaned, faces drooping with disbelief, until their teacher silenced them. "It must be done by the end of the period. I don't want to hear any unnecessary chatter, and everyone is required to hand in a sheet, or else it'll be a zero." 

Lined pieces of paper were handed out to each student, and one fell in front of Jongin. Blankly, he stared at it. In his line of vision, he caught other students tapping away on their desks with their pencils, their thoughts trying to gather to make up a well-written piece. Glancing back down at his page, Jongin wondered what school really did for him. He stared until the blue lines on the page began merging together to form specks of white and blue that danced before his eyes.

In all honesty, the sole topic of school was enough to trigger his anxiety. The crowds and eyes and voices always swarmed him and weighed him down, all judging and hating. But for some reason, he still found himself waking up in the mornings and tugging on his uniform to get to school. Despite it all, staying away from school enhanced his anxiety. And lately, he was given a totally different reason to come to school.

And that reason sat right next to him.

The bell rang for the end of the period, and the students packed up and began trickling to the front of the class to hand in whatever they had written. Along with the other students', Jongin tossed his sheet in.

It was left blank.

~~~

Rain beat down on the grass and concrete as Kyungsoo pulled into his apartment's parking lot. He had completely forgotten his grocery bags, and there was no way he was going to pay ten extra cents just for bags when he could use his own. Scrambling out of his car with his hands desperately trying to cover his head from the rain, with little to no success, he dashed into his building.

He wiped the thick droplets of rain off his uniform and ruffled his hair. The old lady that lived on the first floor grinned her wrinkly smile at him, umbrella in hand. Kyungsoo smiled back out of politeness and hopped into the elevator, up to his floor.

The moment he stepped in, he zeroed in on the kitchen where he knew his shopping bags were and slipped his shoes back on, doubled back, forgetting something, and grabbed his umbrella in the open closet by his door. A couple of his jackets were slipping from the rack and dirt tracks laid under some of his sneakers and boots. He really needed to clean that closet out soon.

Someone intelligent would've taken their car to the grocery in this pouring rain, but contrary to what people thought of rainy weathers, Kyungsoo actually found it peaceful and quiet—a great time to just have his thoughts to himself. Plus he wasn't willing to waste the fuel of his car, driving somewhere that was three minutes away on foot.

No one was really out and about in the pattering rain and no one felt like shopping, so the market was quite empty. He made a beeline to the dairy aisle and threw a bag of 2% milk into his basket along with vanilla yogourt. Why not. He ran out of rice and flour and beef at home. Those were things he needed.

There were, he noticed, self-checkout stations, but he was a bit old-fashioned. The lines at the cashiers weren't long, anyway. 

Stepping out into the rain was the hardest part. The building was just so warm with heaters—he didn't want to leave. But still, he had an empty fridge and empty stomach waiting to be stocked up and he couldn't leave them hanging so, popping his umbrella open and bracing himself to be hit in the face with cold gusts of wind and wet droplets of water, he stepped outside. 

It was as he drew closer and closer to his house that he noticed a strange figure. Actually, not strange, more like familiar. There was the familiar slump of the shoulders and the drag of his legs, and there was no way Kyungsoo wouldn't recognize him.

But why was Jongin in his neighbourhood?

~~~

A hand sent Jongin's frame flying into the concrete wall of their house and he flinched back as he held his side from where he had hit himself off the corner of a table, curling up farther against the wall. His father screamed, one hand pressed against his face from where Jongin had thrown the alcohol bottle. No doubt there were gashes on his face from the broken glass. 

"Fucking bitch!" his father cried, groaning in pain as he pulled his hand away from his face, bright red blood running down his temple and coating his hand. Screaming again, his father grabbed the glass bottle behind him and hurled it at Jongin's head, barely missing by a centimetre.

Flinching back with wide, panicked eyes, Jongin pushed himself onto his feet and scrambled out the door, his father yelling after him but making no attempts to catch him. Rocks embedded themselves in his socks and dug into his skin, but he hardly felt it. His feet carried him to the end of the alley when he finally slowed to a walk. 

It was raining. Pouring, actually. He was wearing nothing but his sweatpants and loose t-shirt that now clung to his lithe form, his socks soaked through. He hadn't really thought about wearing shoes at the time. He shivered, pulling his arms tightly around himself, as if that would stop him from trembling. He was cold and too exposed with nowhere to go other than forward. Raindrops blew in his eyes and he bowed his head, trying to push through the wind that fought against him and blurred his vision.

At some point, Jongin found himself in an unfamiliar neighbourhood and he froze. As much as he tried to think back to how he had gotten here, he just couldn't recall walking down this path. His feet had just...dragged him here. As if it had a mind of its own.

He stood there for a while, staring at the ground, droplets splattering around him and rolling off the strands of his hair. His toes curled in his socks, completely numb from the cold. 

This neighbourhood, though...Something seemed familiar about it. There was the row of flowers, and the apartment building across from him.

And the call of his name. He heard his name being called from somewhere, but through the roaring of the wind, he wasn't sure what he heard. And the voice was so familiar, too. 

All of a sudden, raindrops no longer splattered on him, and when he blinked the wet droplets out of his eyes, he was met with that smile. _His_ wide, gummy smile, and he wasn't prepared enough to stamp down the wild somersaulting in his chest and the stuttering of his breath. 

"Hey, Jongin," Kyungsoo greeted, his smile widening, before his face fell as he properly took in Jongin's state. "Wait, what—What are you doing out here, looking like _this_? You're wearing nothing but a t-shirt. You're gonna freeze!"

"I'm fine," Jongin argued, right before he sneezed and was sent into another shivering frenzy. 

Kyungsoo frowned. "You can't just stand out here in the cold. My apartment's right there. Come stay there until the rain stops."

"Stop, really, I'm fine."

Jongin sneezed again.

"See, you're not fine." Kyungsoo grabbed Jongin's hand and gasped. "Jongin, your skin is ice cold! You're literally shivering and there are goosebumps all over your arms. There's no way I'm letting you stay out here like this."

Jongin could barely hear him over the erratic thudding of his heart in his ears. 

Kyungsoo tugged him into a tall building, not pausing to smile at the lady at the front desk. He led Jongin to an elevator and once the doors slid open, Kyungsoo beckoned him in and Jongin followed. He sagged against the wall once the door closed fully. His feet were still cold, but he was getting a bit more feeling back into his toes, and he was thankful for the heater.

He felt Kyungsoo's gaze on him a few times before he looked away. He didn't try to whip up a conversation, which Jongin was glad about. 

The elevator dinged and then Kyungsoo was tugging Jongin along again, this time by his wrist. He led him down a carpeted hall, and a part of Jongin felt bad about soaking their clean carpets with his dirty feet, but Kyungsoo unlocked the door to his apartment and pulled him in and the guilt dissipated. 

He didn't have shoes to slip off, so instead, he looked around. Kyungsoo's apartment wasn't that big, but it was big enough for two people, and it was cozy. A replica of the Mona Lisa hung above the flat-screen TV and in front of it—a cute black sofa. There were minimal decorations—nothing overwhelming—and the walls were a faint peach tint. 

It felt like—It almost felt like h—

"Jongin, why are you standing there? Come sit." Kyungsoo patted the couch before heading down the narrow hallway and into a room.

Shifting from foot to foot, Jongin slowly approached the couch before warily lowering himself. He was still soaked to the bone, and the couch looked so clean. He didn't want to get it dirty. He heard the faint trickling of water, and Kyungsoo came out of the hall.

"I got the shower turned on and ready for you. I didn't want you catching a cold," Kyungsoo said. "Leave the door unlocked so I can wash your wet clothes and I'll leave you a pair of dry clothes by the door, okay?"

Given no other option, Jongin agreed and headed to the bathroom. It was nice inside—much nicer than his bathroom. He shut the door behind him and took a good look at himself. His black t-shirt fortunately didn't reveal anything, but he was wet and shivering from head to toe. One by one, he peeled the sticky clothes off his form and placed them on the lid of the toilet seat, hoping Kyungsoo wouldn't mind. Left bare, he grimaced at himself—at the whitening gash on his thigh, and the scar on his hipbone and the bruise on his shoulder. And he made a twisted face at the pudge that sat on his waist, on his hips, on his thighs and his stomach. 

Nothing like the slim, fit figure Kyungsoo possessed. 

For the first time, his long bangs irritated his eyes.

But Kyungsoo knocked on the door, and Jongin was pulled out of his train of thought. "The clothes are right outside the door, Jongin."

Letting Kyungsoo know he had heard, Jongin stepped under the shower-head. The water had already heated up and steam rose from the shower, but it didn't feel scorching hot when it made contact with his skin. Instead, Jongin melted in it. It took a few moments for the warmth of the drizzling water to reach his stiff and cold bones, but once they did, Jongin's muscles loosened and the shivers slowly left his body. The frigid temperature of Jongin's body was carried out of his body and it swirled down the drain along with the droplets of water. He rested his eyes and stood there, head bowed as the water continued rolling off of him. 

There was a dull ache in his chest and the sting in his nostrils as he felt the blurring in his eyes, but he blinked it away and sniffled. 

If he went back to his house after, his father would surely beat him, and he'd be lucky if the utmost he received was a glass bottle to the head. But if he didn't return...his father would still beat him. Whatever he chose to do, his father would beat him. The longer he stayed out of the house, the more his father's rage would expand. 

He didn't realize how long he had stood in there, lost in thought, until Kyungsoo knocked on the door to check up on him. Jongin quickly turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping the white towel hanging on the rack by the shower around himself as a cold gust of wind brushed his face. He retrieved the clothes outside of the bathroom and placed them on the dry side of the toilet seat, away from his dirty clothes. 

Drying himself off, he pulled the mahogany sweater on. His first thought was that this definitely wasn't Kyungsoo's. Kyungsoo was shorter than him, but this sweater was bigger on Jongin—long sleeves that covered his hands. So were the sweatpants he was given. 

Was Kyungsoo living here with someone else?

He stepped out of the bathroom, tugging on the sleeves of the sweater. He noted that the sweater smelt like Kyungsoo, so he couldn't have a roommate. 

Kyungsoo stepped out from what Jongin presumed was the kitchen due to the ridiculous apron the former had on. "Oh they fit you well." Catching the question in Jongin's eyes, Kyungsoo added, "they belong to my friend. I would've let you borrow my clothes, but they probably would've been too small on you. My friend is slightly bigger than you, and he liked to leave his clothes around my house, and I accidentally ended up packing his clothes along with mine when I moved."

Jongin nodded, though he hadn't really asked—and wasn't really listening.

Wiping his hands on his apron, Kyungsoo said, "I'll just go dump your clothes in the washer and I'll be right back."

He picked Jongin's wet clothes up from the bathroom and headed farther down the hall, kicking the door of the laundry room open. He had already unpacked everything and his furniture had come in, which he was thankful for because now he actually had a bed to sleep in and didn't have to wash his clothes with his hands like he had done during the first week of his move. That was a memory he did not wish to relive.

Once done with that, Kyungsoo grabbed an icepack from the freezer, much to Jongin's puzzlement. "The doctor said you should treat your bruised ribs with an icepack to rest it." He made an attempt to grab the hem of Jongin's—Chanyeol's—sweater, but Jongin flinched away, and Kyungsoo coughed awkwardly. "Um, maybe it's better if you do it yourself."

Jongin agreed and took the icepack, lifting the hem of his shirt the tiniest bit just so he could slip the icepack underneath. The chill of the ice contrasted with his now-warm skin, and he winced. 

He refused to meet Kyungsoo's eyes—something he did a lot these days—and instead chose to look down at his bare feet. 

The dull ache he had felt in his chest while showering returned, this time stronger. He had a feeling he knew what it meant, and he didn't like it. His vision blurred, just as it had in the shower, and there was the stinging of his nostrils again. He sniffled and tried to shake the tears away.

"Wait, Jongin, are you _crying_?" Kyungsoo faltered. 

"I'm not!" Jongin hissed, rubbing at his eyes, but the ache in his chest grew and a sob slipped past his lips. He wished Kyungsoo would stop staring at him like that—with concern and so much care. He shouldn't feel like this—he knew he shouldn't, but Kyungsoo scooted closer, forgetting about being awkward, and pulled Jongin into his side and let the latter bury his face in his shoulder.

And Jongin couldn't help it when the action pushed another sob out of him, along with a few tears. One tear fell and then another, and then he realized—he couldn't stop them. It sounded horrid to his own ears, as if each sound was tearing at his throat. 

And he belated remembered that it had been...a while since he last cried. He had always tried to keep it in, but there was no way he could when he was being treated like this. 

Jongin hated it. He hated the cold press of the icepack against his side. He hated the flaring of his nostrils and the sobs he let out. He hated that his father was waiting for him back at his place, somewhere uglier than here, in Kyungsoo's small apartment big enough for two where it was warm and cozy and just right. And he hated Kyungsoo for dragging him along to his apartment. He hated that he was rubbing his face and tears into Kyungsoo's shoulder. He hated that Kyungsoo didn't seem to care. He hated that the latter had even pulled him into his side in the first place and hated that he was running his hand soothingly up and down Jongin's back. He hated how warm Kyungsoo was and how right everything felt and how Kyungsoo's rose, lavender, and homely scent invaded his senses. And he hated most of all that Kyungsoo stared at him with the utmost care and filled him with a sense of security and made him feel comfortable—unlike he'd ever felt before. 

Jongin shook as his tears slowed and reduced to light sniffles and silent whines. 

"Shh, you're okay," Kyungsoo assured, and Jongin, for once, believed him.

Even when Jongin's sniffling stopped, Kyungsoo made no moves to pull away, instead focusing on the soft inhale Jongin took before letting out a shaky exhale. He wasn't sure why Jongin cried, but if it had anything to do with his father and why he was standing outside his apartment building in the pouring rain, then he had the slightest idea. 

"You're okay, Nini," Kyungsoo repeated.

Frowning, Jongin finally raised his head from Kyungsoo's shoulder, regretting it instantly when he lost Kyungsoo's warmth. "'Nini?'"

Realizing what he had let slip loose, Kyungsoo flushed. "D-Do you not like it? I just—thought it suit you 'cause...you know. You're not mad, right?"

"It doesn't matter," Jongin deadpanned, rubbing at his swollen eyes. 

He wasn't going to admit that he'd never had someone give him a nickname before, except for his mother back when he was still a toddler. It felt nice to have a nickname, and Jongin wouldn't tell Kyungsoo that it had his heart racing again. 

Changing the subject, Kyungsoo said, "Are you hungry? I started chopping some stuff up if you want to eat. Is there anything in particular you want?"

~~~

Jongin was sure Kyungsoo had god-blessed hands, because his food was _heavenly_. Kyungsoo could honestly pass for Korea's best chef, or maybe he was just biased. 

"So, Jongin," Kyungsoo spoke after a few seconds ticked by of him just pushing his food back and forth, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but why were you avoiding me in class today? Is it because of what I saw at your house a few days ago?"

Jongin didn't want to be reminded of that. He was already drowning in humiliation from sobbing in front of Kyungsoo with big, puffy eyes and a snotty nose. The dark stain on the wooden table seemed fairly interesting at that moment.

"No reason," Jongin said.

"You know I'm not judging you, right? You might think I'm judging you and your family, but I'm not. I want you to know that I'm always here for you. If you want to talk to me or you feel the need to tell me something, tell me. I didn't give you my phone number for nothing."

That was true, and Jongin was grateful. But—

"You're not burdening me in any way, either," Kyungsoo quickly added, and Jongin's shoulders slumped. 

He wasn't all that convinced, but Kyungsoo was willing to be there for him, was still pushing to get past Jongin's barrier, and there was absolutely nothing Jongin could do to stop him. Not anymore.

While Kyungsoo tidied up the table and threw the dirty dishes in the sink, Jongin waited out in the living room on the couch, hands awkwardly clasped between his thighs as he let his eyes take in his surroundings.

The rain still showered down, and even lightning had been added to the mix this time, which had Jongin flinching back and sinking into the cushions of the couch.

"It's raining a lot, isn't it?" Kyungsoo said, leaving the kitchen. "I don't think you should go home. I don't want you outside hanging around like that again for someone random to snatch you up."

"But I need to get back," Jongin argued. "If I don't, my father..." 

"Jongin," Kyungsoo insisted, placing his hand gently on Jongin's thigh and leaning closer, "stay, please. I can't let you go out in that weather."

Kyungsoo was being selfish—he knew that. But he couldn't help but want Jongin to stay longer, even for just the night. He could leave in the morning, when the rain stopped. But there was no way Kyungsoo would let Jongin wander around in the rain.

Reluctantly, Jongin sighed and accepted defeat. He didn't know what he'd face with his father, but anything would be worth the dazzling smile Kyungsoo shone at him.

"Then I'll get you pyjamas," Kyungsoo said, a bit too enthusiastically, as he shot up from the couch and made his way to his bedroom. "My pyjamas will have to do for now. They might be a bit small but it's all I have."

It was more than enough, considering how Jongin didn't even bother owning a pair of pyjamas and just slept in his uniform. 

Kyungsoo let Jongin borrow his room to change and shut the door, leaving Jongin to stand in the middle of the dark room with the clothes in his hands. He could only make out the outlines of the furnitures in the room, but it was so organized. No clothes scattered on the floor or books laying around on open surfaces—the opposite of how Jongin's room looked. 

The pyjamas were sort of small—the sleeves barely covering his arms—but it was fuzzy and soft, and Jongin couldn't complain.

Kyungsoo was setting up the couch with a blanket and pillow, and seeing Jongin patiently waiting by the foot of the couch was so endearing. Especially seeing the younger cloaked in _his_ blue pyjamas. He looked so fluffy.

"Take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch," Kyungsoo said.

"But...I'm the guest. Shouldn't I be sleeping on the couch?" 

"I want you to sleep comfortably tonight. The couch isn't all that comfortable."

Jongin didn't like that. "Then why are you going to sleep on it?"

"Because I want my guest to sleep well. One night on the couch isn't going to harm me."

Still, Jongin felt like he was invading Kyungsoo's space. It didn't sit right with him—sleeping in Kyungsoo's bed, knowing the owner had to sleep on the couch. 

Sensing Jongin's discomfort with the idea, Kyungsoo smiled. "It's alright, Jongin. The couch isn't so bad."

Finding a clean toothbrush in his bathroom drawer, Kyungsoo allowed Jongin to use it and lent him a towel to wipe his face on. 

Pearly white sheets covered the expanse of Kyungsoo's wooden bed, the mattress springy and soft. Thunder still crackled outside, and Jongin flinched under the covers. As Kyungsoo left the room, Jongin sat up, crumpling the sheets in his hands. "Kyungsoo, can you leave the hallway light on?" 

Instead of looking annoyed, Kyungsoo nodded. "Sure."

He also left the door open ajar, letting light flow in. Settling back amongst the heavy sheets, Jongin buried his face in the blanket. Kyungsoo's scent lingered on the pyjamas, the sheets, surrounding him and overwhelming him, invading his senses. It was intoxicating, leaving him lightheaded and tingly—Jongin wondered if this is what it felt like to be drunk. 

He felt so calm and at peace, and any worries that had been plaguing his mind couldn't be brought together to keep him restless, and Jongin sagged into the mattress, body slowly lulling itself to sleep.

~~~

_No. Not here. Anywhere but here,_ Jongin pleaded. 

Everything was enveloped in a mantle of ebony when Kyungsoo arose. He had shut the hallway light off after Jongin had fallen asleep, unable to sleep with it on. The rain had died down to a silent lull, and his phone read two in the morning. He had a kink in his neck from sleeping in an odd position, and he groaned as he tried to roll it out.

_Jongin couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His heart galloped in his chest._

Kyungsoo wasn't sure why he had suddenly woken up at such an ungodly hour, but he heard a faint noise. 

_He couldn't call for help. _

At first he believed it was his imagination, but then he heard it again. It sounded so distant, and if Kyungsoo didn't strain his ear, he couldn't hear it. 

_Several beer bottles laid on the floor. Jongin was seated in the same seat._

It came from his bedroom, and Kyungsoo cautiously stood up and pushed the door to his room open, poking his head in. The sound was much more audible now, and Kyungsoo realized it was Jongin who was making the sound. 

_The ground opened up beneath him, and he couldn't grab anything._

He was whimpering. His eyebrows furrowed in discomfort and his face contorted in fear as he burrowed farther into the sheets, his forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat. 

He was having a nightmare, Kyungsoo realized. He approached the side of his bed and lightly shook Jongin's shoulder. "Jongin, wake up." As a response, Jongin let out another pained whimper and hid farther under the covers.

_He felt those calloused hands run down his face..._

Not knowing what else to do, he climbed into the bed with Jongin and wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to smooth out the wrinkles between Jongin's eyebrows. 

_Down to his neck..._

Even after shaking his shoulder again, Jongin still didn't wake up. 

_And Jongin couldn't breathe as he stared into Kyungsoo's seething eyes. Not even a twitch of his muscles as he tightened his hands around Jongin's neck._

Jongin's breathing grew heavy and erratic, and Kyungsoo panicked. Resting his hand on Jongin's back, he tried to soothingly rub it up and down to calm him, but it only succeeded in causing Jongin to squirm.

_The elder's name was lodged in Jongin's throat, pressing down harder than Kyungsoo's thumbs on the skin of his neck. He kept falling, his mind screaming and his eyes tearing up._

All of a sudden, Kyungsoo got an idea. His mother always did this when he had nightmares as a kid, and it worked every single time.

_Jongin could feel himself slipping. Could feel his eyes closing._

Clearly his throat, Kyungsoo thought of the lyrics to his favourite song and began singing.

_Jongin heard angels singing in his ears, and Kyungsoo's hands loosened on his throat. He began falling harder, and realized he was reaching the end of the abyss. He braced himself, prepared to feel the break in his spine..._

_And landed softly on a bed of fluffy lilacs. Jongin's eyes shot open. The darkness of the abyss no longer surrounded him. Hands no longer grappled at his neck. The air smelt freshly of roses and lavender. Like Kyungsoo. Raising himself off the lilacs, he looked around, finding himself in a garden of roses, blue and pink hydrangeas with apple and orange trees bordering it._

_The angel's voice continued to hum in his ear, and all the tension that held him together made way for soft smiles and birds' singing. _

Kyungsoo felt Jongin sag into the sheets, his body loosening up and the tension wafting off him, and he continued singing, pulling Jongin closer to his chest to show he wasn't going anywhere. 

Sleep came quickly, and Kyungsoo's voice faded as he fell into Morpheus' arms, right alongside Jongin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just write a chapter that's literally 6k words long? Yep. Is it shitty? Yep. Am I going to do anything about it? Nope.


	12. Chapter 11

Sooty-grey clouds hung in the air, dried out from the night prior, and crystallized raindrops hung from the rooftops of houses before dripping off. The remnants of last night's storm twinkled on the sidewalks and the whispering winds continued humming in the ears of the trees, though much more gently than the day before.

It was still early, the sun barely out yet, but Jongin stirred all the same. He still rested somewhere between reality and the safety of Morpheus' arms, but his ears caught the faint chirping of birds. There was a cloaked heaviness that rested on him, and it took him aback that there was such a warm blanket covering him. But then memories of the night before flooded him and he remembered. 

He was in Kyungsoo's apartment.

Vaguely, Jongin remembered falling through the same abyss, shattering and fading, but when he thought about it, he wondered if that had just been a figment of his imagination. Not that dreams weren't imaginary, but that part of his dream seemed...unreachable, as if it hadn't really happened. 

What he did have strong memories of, though, was the ringing of the angel's voice in his ear. The melodic voice had led him through the field of flowers, gently caressing him. Birds had gathered around him, squirrels nuzzling at his feet, and butteries had flown out of their homes, pulled in by the angel's singing just as much as Jongin was. 

He hadn't felt so peaceful in so long.

But when his mind was well alert, he noticed that the blanket's heaviness wasn't the only thing resting on him. It was unfamiliar, but not disturbing, and Jongin peeled his eyes open to see what it was. 

But his eyes were met with darkness. At first, he wondered whether he had woken up too early and if it was still dark out, but then he shuffled back as much as he could, and realized he had been staring into a pair of jet-black pyjamas. The extra weight was an _arm around his waist_, but when he pushed back as far as the secure arm would let him, he came face-to-face with Kyungsoo.

Barely suppressing a scream, Jongin shot up, rumpling the blanket in his hands as he hid behind it. 

What the fuck was Kyungsoo doing here? He swore he remembered Kyungsoo falling asleep on the couch, so why the _fuck_ was he waking up to his face buried in Kyungsoo's chest with his arm around his waist? 

At the sudden loss of warmth—from Jongin's body and the blanket the latter had so kindly hogged in his panic—Kyungsoo stirred and blinked his bleary eyes open. Seeing Jongin out of bed, he quickly shot up, fearing that something was wrong.

He hadn't really processed how...close their faces would be.

If Jongin's eyes could get any wider, he was sure they did. Kyungsoo was so close—a bit too close—and he hiccuped before he could shove it down. His eyes shifted and he finally decided on eyeing the detailed stitches on the blanket. Anything to avoid looking up into Kyungsoo's eyes. 

"Why are you awake so early?" Kyungsoo asked, and Jongin tried not to focus on how raspy his voice was first thing in the morning. Or the tickling in his chest. 

"I-It's Tuesday," Jongin said. "There's school." 

At that, Kyungsoo's eyes popped open as the last remnants of sleep floated away and he bolted out of the bed to check the time. 

Without him in the room, Jongin let out the breath he was holding in. He refused to accept that he had slept in the same bed as Kyungsoo. There was no way. Maybe he was still dreaming, and if he pinched himself, he would wake up and be in the bed alone. 

But nothing changed even when he pinched himself on the thigh. And really hard, at that. 

But then again, maybe Jongin was getting ahead of himself. There was no guarantee that Kyungsoo slept in the bed with him because of Jongin. Maybe the couch was uncomfortable and the living room was too cold so he decided to squeeze in next to Jongin, and they had ended up rolling into each other. Maybe Kyungsoo was a cuddler when he slept. 

The bedroom door squeaked open, and Jongin's head snapped up to see Kyungsoo already dressed in his uniform. "You can get ready while I prepare breakfast."

When Kyungsoo left, Jongin shuffled into the bathroom and locked the door before brushing his teeth. Just as he reached for his uniform, he froze.

He didn't have his uniform.

It was hanging on his bed at his place.

But he didn't want to go back.

He _couldn't_ go back. Not right now, at least. 

Kyungsoo knocked on the bathroom door to let him know that breakfast was ready, and Jongin slowly eased the door open, looking sheepish and bit like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. "Um, I don't have my uniform."

That fact had completely slipped Kyungsoo's mind. "Oh, well, I—Um, maybe you can wear your clothes from yesterday? I washed them and everything."

"No, it's fine," Jongin shrugged. "I just won't go to school."

"But—"

"I can't go home," Jongin mumbled. "It's just one day."

Kyungsoo didn't look all that convinced or happy that Jongin was going to skip school—almost like a parent, Jongin noted with mild amusement—but he nodded nonetheless. It wasn't his place to pester Jongin if he didn't feel like going to school. It was for the best, anyway. Kyungsoo didn't want to send Jongin back home, either.

A part of it had to do with the fact that he wanted Jongin to stay longer.

But the other part of him had a bad feeling about letting him return to his house, if Jongin wandering in the pouring rain was tied to it in any way. 

"Okay," Kyungsoo agreed. "But still have breakfast."

At the thought of Kyungsoo's cooking, Jongin's stomach howled in excitement. Kyungsoo grinned upon hearing it and led Jongin out to the kitchen and seated him at the dining table. A bowl of rice was placed in front of Jongin along with a separate plate full of vegetables before Kyungsoo got his own.

"Sorry, I didn't really feel up to making a lot this morning." Kyungsoo looked bashful. "I hope this is enough."

This...was more than enough for Jongin, and it was delicious. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever had homemade breakfast served for him. Definitely years ago.

To him, every grain of rice was to be treasured. Because he never knew when he'd get to eat like this again.

Kyungsoo tapped his bowl with his spoon, causing Jongin to look up. "Don't just eat the rice, Jongin. Eat it with the vegetables."

Jongin did as told, picking at his vegetables and combining it with his rice. He did discover, though, that he wasn't the biggest fan of red peppers. He sat there, shoving the red peppers all to one side so he could eat the other vegetables. He had hoped to be discreet, but Kyungsoo caught him and choked up a laugh.

"Don't like peppers?" he noted, and Jongin nodded his head, feeling slightly ashamed. 

He shouldn't be picky, especially when Kyungsoo took time out of his morning to cook such a tasty breakfast for him.

But Kyungsoo didn't seem to mind as he said, "Here, hand them to me," and he leaned over the table with his chopsticks to pick out all the peppers and placed them in his own plate. 

It was such a simple action—Kyungsoo wasn't even doing anything. And yet the fuzzy feeling came back. Jongin didn't know what it was, or why whenever the sensation hit him, he felt as if he were sinking into a giant marshmallow, but he wasn't too fond of it. It was so bizarre, and he didn't sit with its unfamiliarity.

For the duration of the breakfast, neither of them had the heart to bring up that morning's events. It crossed both their minds, yet they dismissed it, floating over their heads and hanging between them—the elephant in the room. Kyungsoo knew for a fact that Jongin wouldn't bring it up first—he preferred to keep silent. And though the thought had crossed his mind, Kyungsoo wasn't sure whether he should bring it up or not.

What would he say, anyway? "I heard you whimpering and thought cuddling you to sleep was a good idea"? And even if he _did_ bring it up, Jongin would probably cower from the subject and try to change it, or go completely silent—which was the most likely alternative. 

Judging by Jongin's stiff shoulders, he was probably thinking about it, too.

If Kyungsoo just let his tongue slip—just grabbed ahold of the words hanging in before his eyes and sitting on his tongue—he would be able to clear the heavy awkwardness in the air. 

Instead, he forced the words down with his food and hoped to take his mind off it.

~~~

It was when they had parted ways that Jongin finally mustered up the courage to return home. 

There was a likely chance his father wouldn't be home, anyways. He usually staggered out of the house early in the morning and returned early to sleep in. 

He'd be able to sneak in.

Taking the normal route, Jongin made his way back down the familiar alleyway—with the cans of coke lying around the large garbage dump and the abandoned wet newspapers scattered about where the stray cats always took their rests. There had been a time in his life when this alleyway hadn't been a daily sight in his life, when he hadn't been hoarded into the corner of the city where no one ever visited—the part of the city that probably wouldn't show up on a GPS.

Years ago, his father's job had already been teetering on unstable, his money and position on the line, buried under heavy debt. That harrowing period of time had increased his father's anger issues and the numbers of bruises on his mother. Food had appeared less and less onto the table until his mother had completely stopped, choosing to sleep her afternoon and evenings away when his father was out of the house, off drinking.

And when his mother's mental health had almost collapsed on her, she escaped, leaving Jongin to take her place. After that, his father had lost his job altogether. It wasn't just rent they couldn't pay, but food wasn't on his table, and Jongin realized he had to do something. 

In middle school, Jongin had barely managed to hoard his father and himself into their current house, scraping together as much money as he could find from his father's bank account and his own savings. He had even acquired a job when he was of age. The few dollars he made during his shifts had been able to bring them food. 

Until Jongin got fired, at least. 

To his dismay, his manager had found out Jongin was smuggling the expired food from the convenience store because he had no other thing to eat. 

So Jongin was left with no money, except what little he had tucked away from his father to ensure it wouldn't be used for soju.

The door creaked open as Jongin stepped in. The rickety floorboards squeaked under each step and he held his breath. The house was quiet, so he suspected that his father had already wandered off, probably to cause problems. 

It had happened a few times over the years. 

The first time, his father had stumbled into a club for a drink, only to be stopped by the bartender because he hadn't brought any money with him. Infuriated and intoxicated, his father had pulled out a knife. Where he got that from, Jongin wasn't informed, but he had been locked up until Jongin had arrived to pick him up from the police station.

The second time was when he had tried stealing alcohol from a beer store. 

But then, the door to his father's bedroom opened, stiff on its hinges, and his father staggered out into the hall. 

He hadn't left yet. 

Jongin's blood ran cold and he stiffened in his spot, eyes flitting to the floor. His bruised ribs throbbed and he awaited whatever came his way.

Upon seeing his son, Jongin's father scowled. But he just spat at Jongin's feet and pushed him out of the way. "Fucking scum," he sneered before leaving the house.

When the door shut behind him, Jongin visibly loosened, shoulders slumping from their previous position up against his ear. He bounded over to his room where his crumpled uniform laid on his mattress. 

Spread out comfortably on his bed, Jongin's mind flashed back to that morning. 

He had memories of falling, and hands wrapping around his throat. It was vague—a blur—but he knew it wasn't just a figment of his imagination. There was a slim chance he had made that scenario up. And yet, it had faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. 

When one moment he had felt himself slipping, the next he found himself laying in a meadow.

That had never happened before.

And then when he had woken up, he had been wrapped in Kyungsoo's embrace...

Jongin shook the image out of his head, cheeks flaming from what he believed was shame. 

Amidst his mild panic, he almost missed the small ping sound coming from somewhere. For a moment, Jongin wondered if he had only imagined it, until his eyes darted to his lit-up phone. 

One unread message.

**From: Kyungsoo**

_hey you doing okay?_

The words managed to get through his head after the fourth read, and Jongin typed back.

**From: Jongin**

_im doing fine._

The next message came almost instantly.

**From: Kyungsoo**

_you sure?_

**From: Jongin**

_yea_

For a moment, Jongin pondered if he sounded too bland or not, but Kyungsoo didn't seem all that fazed.

**From: Kyungsoo**

_im glad :)_

It was that weird fuzzy feeling again. Uselessly, Jongin scratched at his chest, but the more he read over the last message, the more the ticklish warmth grew. 

It felt unreal—having someone check up on him. 

Having someone who kept interest in him for this long.

He entertained the thought of responding back to Kyungsoo with a smiley face of his own, but chose against it. Throwing his phone to the other end of the bed, he laid down and got comfortable—as comfortable as he could get.

It wasn't as nice as Kyungsoo's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wrote a small filler chapter because I need to plan what the next chapter will be like :) so please bear with me


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW//verbal abuse   
Sorry if the language is offensive

The following week landed Jongin in Kyungsoo's house again.

It had first started when Kyungsoo had come up to him, asking to tutor him. At first, Jongin wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer to that. For years, he hadn't focused on his studies, pulled down by the monster inside of him and too clouded by his own demons to really pay attention to school. But on Wednesday, a week ago, he'd been approached by him, and it finally sank in that he was in his last year of high school. 

The thought of a tutor had never crossed his mind, though. And he was never comfortable with anyone to ever actually have sessions.

But Kyungsoo wasn't just 'anyone.'

He'd proven that. As much as Jongin hated to admit it.

~~~

Kyungsoo had been thinking about helping Jongin with his studies; he just never knew he'd actually...go along with it. 

It had been a week ago, when Jongin had decided not to go to school. 

Kyungsoo had been wandering the halls with Taeyong and Jungwoo after school when they stumbled upon the teacher's lounge. The door had been open ajar, and when voices echoed from the room, neither one of them could resist snooping around. 

"Our school image can't be brought down by some penniless student!" Mr. Jung, the chemistry teacher, cried.

Ms. Lee spoke up. "Please, give him another chance."

"This is his last year of high school—what do you mean by 'another chance?'"

"He's right, Ms. Lee. He's shows up late to class, and when he does, he's covered in bruises. It's clear that he's probably picking fights outside of school." Kyungsoo wasn't sure which teacher that was. Her voice was unfamiliar.

"You don't know what he's going through. Jongin's not a bad student. He's just shy. We're supposed to be here to make this a comfortable environment for him. That's our role as teachers."

"Is this kid our only student? Why must we revolve our job around him solely? We have our other students, too, Ms. Lee, and every single one of them have been complaining that they can't focus on their studies because they're uncomfortable sitting in a class with someone potentially threatening. Just think about it. Kids like them are much better out on the streets, picking their fights there and causing havoc somewhere _away_ from a friendly school environment. We can't let our students and the school's reputation down because of one boy."

Sizzling in Kyungsoo's veins was his blood, and if he focused, he swore he could hear crackling. Every word burned—hotter than the sun, ragingly—yet it also ached. 

Who were they to judge Jongin? He was nothing like what they suspected. There was nothing wrong with Jongin, absolutely nothing—

"Hey," Taeyong whispered, "let's get out of here." He jerked his head in the another direction and tip-toed off, Jungwoo hot on his heels.

Throwing one last look into the teacher's lounge, Kyungsoo stalked off, too.

One too many beats of silence passed before Jungwoo said, "Wow, that was...something."

"What are they going to do with Jongin now?" Kyungsoo murmured.

"Isn't it obvious? They'll expel him. Kick him out of the school."

"But they can't do that."

"Yes, they can," Taeyong said. "And by the looks of it, they will. It's not really new to any of us. Everyone's probably happy he's going to leave. Half the students pity him while the other half find even the smallest second of their day gossiping about him, laughing at his misery. In all honesty, no one really knows Jongin. We've all gone to school with him since ninth grade but everyone tried to keep their distance from him. There'll be trouble if you don't."

He caught a glimpse of Kyungsoo's crumbling face and sighed. 

"I know you feel bad—trust me, we do, too. Some people have actually tried approaching him, or thought about helping. It never works out. You either get picked on by the other kids, or get pushed away by the subject. Maybe getting expelled will be better for him, anyway. He'd at least be able to get away from the toxic words of others.

"None of us will be able to do anything. This is a bit harsh, but Jongin sort of...dug himself into a hole. His attendance in class is bad, he doesn't do his work. He's failing everything. At this rate forget about passing his classes—he won't even graduate high school. There's almost nothing you can do for him at this point."

But Kyungsoo could only focus on how Taeyong said there was 'almost nothing' he could do. Which meant he could still do something to help Jongin with his situation.

He remembered weeks ago, halfway through October, when the teachers had hoarded Jongin into the conference room to have a chat with him. It was highly likely that this was the topic they had been on. 

And he knew that if he was going to do something for Jongin, he had to think fast before Jongin was expelled and he would never see him again.

So Kyungsoo settled on tutoring. It was simple, and hit a crucial point—helping Jongin boost his marks. When he'd breached the subject to the latter, his reaction had been expected. Jongin wasn't all too pleased—tried to butt out as quickly as he could—but after a little speech that landed a few jabs in the right area, he had him nailed down on the idea. 

Which was how Jongin found himself in Kyungsoo's house again. 

It was still awkward—on Jongin's part. Kyungsoo didn't seem all that fazed, grinning and greeting him kindly, as always. Or maybe he was just good at acting.

Nothing had changed—not that Jongin had really expected anything to shift in the duration of a week. It was much neater now, though. Maybe because this time, Kyungsoo was expecting him so he had time to clean up, whereas Kyungsoo hadn't been fully prepared to have a guest the last time. 

It wasn't necessary for Kyungsoo to show Jongin to his bedroom—taking into consideration how Jongin had slept in this very room not so long ago—but he still felt obligated to lead him there. He'd already prepared a chair by his desk, so he let Jongin take a seat there and get comfortable while he fetched them a glass of water. 

A cup full of pencils and pens sat on the upper right corner of the desk. Each of the desk's drawers were labelled with a specific subject—Calculus, Biology, Chemistry, Functions, English. Almost like an office worker. There wasn't even a speck of dust on the surface of the polished wooden desk. It was too perfect—like Kyungsoo.

He'd never sat well with the idea of being tutored—all alone in a room with just him and his tutor as he asked his tutor to repeat what he'd just said for the fifth time. But this was his last resort, unless he wanted to be expelled. School was his hideout—the one place he could go to escape from his father. He didn't work, but listening to the lectures of his droning teachers ring in his ears with no particular part of it clinging to his mind was all that could keep him busy for six hours before he had to hobble back home. 

Shoving the door open was Kyungsoo, carrying two glasses of water in his hands. He set one down in front of Jongin before taking a seat.

There was a pregnant pause as both of them shifted in their seats, unsure of who should speak next. Jongin wasn't all too familiar on what tutoring was like.

Then, Kyungsoo clapped his hands, grinning. "Should we start? How about you pull out your textbooks and I'll teach you anything you want to learn. It could be whatever subject you want to learn about. What do you want to start with?"

Jongin's hand had just brushed against his Calculus textbook, so he pulled that out first. "Maybe we could start with Calculus."

That would be easy—Kyungsoo was a big fan of Calculus.

When Jongin bashfully asked if they could learn everything starting from the first unit, Kyungsoo didn't seem bothered. In fact, he looked delighted to be reviewing everything he'd already learned, though it didn't ease Jongin's embarrassment. 

He knew absolutely nothing of that year—hadn't even once paid attention—and now he was asking Kyungsoo to teach him everything halfway through the semester. He was just wasting Kyungsoo's time. Surely the latter had homework due for tomorrow, but he wouldn't be able to finish it if he sat here trying to reteach half a semester worth of Calculus—not to mention they still had to touch up on all of the other subjects that they most likely wouldn't get to for another few weeks or so. 

But Kyungsoo was patient. Every time he explained something, he left an open door for Jongin to ask any questions—and Jongin had a ton of them. Kyungsoo would take his time explaining, trying to find various ways of showing the situation for it to be comprehendible. And he was understanding, smiling sweetly and demonstrating the concept even when Jongin asked the dumbest questions with the simplest answer. But when Jongin voiced it out, Kyungsoo simply replied by saying that there was never a dumb question. 

He was so kind...

Jongin wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel.

One hour blurred into two, and then into three, and before Jongin knew it, it was getting late. His vision was beginning to criss-cross until the numbers and letters on the page were one. He had to get home.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Kyungsoo suggested, finally closing the textbook. He been so concentrated on their topic— he hadn't even realized the sun had checked in for the night. "If you give me about half an hour, I can whip something up really fast. I don't want you to go home without eating first."

It was tempting, and Jongin almost agreed—until his father's face flashed in his head. And the bruise on his back burned and itched. When his father had left the house without saying anything upon Jongin's late return to their house, he'd thought he was off the hook. But then his father had stumbled into the house late at night, intoxicated more than ever, and threw him into his mirror, the cracked mirror sending glass shards tearing his skin and leaving a souvenir behind. 

He didn't want to anger his father again.

Jongin stuffed his textbook and the notes he'd taken into his bag. "I think it's best if I go home...My father's waiting for me." _And I don't want to trouble you anymore_. 

Kyungsoo obviously didn't seem pleased. He wanted to help Jongin in some sort of way, but what could he do when Jongin was boundlessly shielding his father? He still didn't trust him—still didn't open up to him about anything. But if Kyungsoo cornered him, he'd hide farther behind his built wall.

So all Kyungsoo could do was let him go.

And when Jongin slung his bag over his shoulder, it felt heavier with all the additional notes, but so did his heart.

~~~

"Out and about again, I see," his father sneered the second Jongin walked through the door. He was tipsy, which wasn't a surprise. But everything in the house was.

_Real_ mulberry silk sheets were carefully folded on the torn couch. A pair of polished black dress shoes sat in front of the door, and his father swigged a glass of Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru wine, cloaked in a suit.

_Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru wine._

He felt lightheaded, everything twirling in front of his vision. Bile sat on his tongue, sour and heavy.

"W-Where did you get all of this?" Jongin muttered. 

His father glared. "The fuck do you care—"

"Where did you get this?!" Jongin yelled, heart racing—almost skyrocketing—as he felt faint with nausea. "We don't have the goddamn money to buy all of this! Just tell me where you got the money!"

His father slammed his wine glass down, sending droplets splattering over the rim. "I borrowed some money from a group of men, happy?"

But his father wouldn't have stumbled into a bank to get money, unless...

_Loan sharks._

"You borrowed money from _loan sharks_?" Jongin mumbled. The approximate cost of the wine and the silk sheets and the shoes and suit all popped up in his vision, spinning around his head. They must've cost thousands of dollars. 

He was gonna throw up.

His father's silence was more than enough of an answer. "How could you?! You know we have no money in the house to repay them, and you thought it was smart to borrow _thousands _of dollars? Are you fucking craz—"

The wine glass shattered at his feet, its contents spilling over his worn shoes. His father abruptly stood up, towering over Jongin. "At least it's better than what you can do! What have you brought to us except disgrace? I knew you were bad luck the moment your mother told me she had you. I lost my money and my house and my job! And your worthless ass has done nothing to help! This is exactly why you never should've been born, you fucking ugly piece of shit. Should've fucking left you like your mother did when I had the chance!"

Jongin flinched as his father jabbed a finger at his shoulder and shoved him into the wall. "Mother left because of you—" He choked on a whimper when he earned himself a kick to the ribs.

"No, she left because of you! Tell me, if your mother wanted you bad, she would've taken you wth her, but no! She left you with me. Why? Because you're a pathetic faggot with no worth whatsoever! Don't you see? No one fucking wants you or will ever want you!

"Don't think I'll even spend a penny on your fucking sorry ass. I'd rather leave you to die."

When his father's bedroom slammed shut, Jongin quivered as he stuttered out a sigh.

But something still clung to him—like a fly caught in a spider's web, unable to escape.

_No one fucking wants you._

No one wanted him. No one wanted to speak to him, to look at him—or even breathe the same air as him. His mother left because she wanted to get away from him—abandoned him in cold blood. 

Even Kyungsoo didn't want him.

Kyungsoo, who'd been nothing but caring, didn't want him either. He felt pity—that's what he felt. Pity for the poor student that no one ever interacted with, no one wanted to be with. He was the new student after all. Of course he would feel that way. The longer time he spent with him, the sooner he'd realize why no one wanted Jongin.

_Kyungsoo doesn't want me._

_He doesn't care._

_He's just being nice. Feeling pity for the kid no one likes._

_You're just wasting his time._

_"You never should've been born!"_

_I shouldn't have been born._

_I shouldn't have let Kyungsoo help me._

_Should've just crawled back into my cave like a coward. _

_Should've stayed hidden._

Jongin didn't realize he wasn't breathing until the lurching in his stomach pulled his mind back to his body. He felt like he'd been stepped on—walked all over. His heart pounded in his chest, torn and mangled.

His demon laughed at him—laughed as he kicked him in the face, stepped on his heart, tossed him aside like a rag doll.

And when Jongin took one more look at the silk sheets on the couch, he couldn't hold it in anymore.

He bolted into the washroom and dropped in front of the toilet, shaky hands desperately trying to find a grip on the sides of the toilet bowl as he vomited. There wasn't much to throw up—he hadn't eaten in a while. He mostly dry-heaved, eyes burning and stomach flipping. Flushing the toilet, he stood up and rinsed his dry mouth, his parched throat. His skin looked sickly pale, eyes sparkling with unshed tears and dark bags hanging under his lashes, his lips a pale purple and shredded. 

He did look ugly.

A couple of minutes later, he founded himself on his mattress, phone in hand as he stared into the black screen. He wasn't sure what he was doing, until he clicked the number and the phone rang in his ear. 

The call went straight to voicemail.

He tried again. And again. And a fourth time.

After the fifth call, his chest contracted as he began to hyperventilate again. His demon was laughing again, sharpening its horns and jagged teeth, giggling into his ear.

_Kyungsoo doesn't care. _

_Stop_.

_It's why he's not answering._

_Kyungsoo's nice, he wouldn't—_

_And what do you know about Kyungsoo? All good-looking guys are players. They earn your trust, be sweet to you, and then they pounce—_

Jongin screamed and threw his phone across the room, hearing the screen crack. The laughter wouldn't stop, his stomach wouldn't stop coiling. He couldn't breathe. He scrambled off the bed over to his bag and pulled out the paper bag, heaving into it. 

He didn't hear his phone vibrate with a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to step up my game. I miss the days I used to upload once a week.


	14. Chapter 13

When Kyungsoo awoke, he pushed past his regret of not being able to hold Jongin back and chose to look forward to the new day. And he'd get to see Jongin.

Just the thought of Jongin was enough to put a smile on his face as he whipped up his breakfast. A part of him felt like maybe he was able to find a crack to slither into—past Jongin's barriers. He could feel it. He was getting there. And even though he'd questioned himself multiple times as to why he was trying so hard with Jongin, he knew the answer. He just wasn't sure whether he was ready to voice it out.

But when he sat down to eat, he remembered Jongin's calls. He'd been in the shower after finishing up the last of his homework, his phone in his bedroom, and when he'd left the steamy room, he'd discovered that he had over five missed calls from Jongin. And Jongin never tried to contact him before that. So he had tried to call him back, but no one had answered. Kyungsoo had been set in unease after that. 

Why had he called? And why so many times? 

The only conclusion he'd arrived to was that Jongin had an emergency, but he didn't respond to his calls or messages afterwards, and Kyungsoo could only fear the worst.

He shoved his plates in the sink upon finishing and tugged his jacket on. A couple of weeks rested between him and winter, and the weather was growing significantly colder, the temperature dropping and the winds carrying chills with it. 

He'd ask Jongin everything once he got to school.

Only...Jongin was avoiding him.

It wasn't noticeable at first. Kyungsoo just thought he hadn't seen them—after all, the halls were crowded; it would be difficult to see him in such a stuffed place. But then their eyes met right after second period; Kyungsoo knew Jongin saw him. His eyebrows had even flown up in recognition, and then he'd ducked in the other direction in a state of panic. 

Something was wrong—Kyungsoo could feel it.

At lunch, Taeyong tapped the edge of Kyungsoo's metal tray with his chopsticks. "Hey, you seem distracted. Everything okay?"

"What? Yeah, yeah, of course. Just tired." It was partially a lie, but Taeyong bought it, anyway. Or, he seemed to, as he didn't ask anymore questions regarding the topic. 

Peering over Taeyong's shoulder, Kyungsoo could look out the window. There Jongin was again, under the giant tree. He was wearing a hoodie over his uniform, the hood pulled up to cover his face. It was cold out, but Jongin seemed too lost in thought to really focus on the weather. For a second, Kyungsoo contemplated whether he should bring lunch for him or not—he probably hadn't eaten. Besides, he'd done it before and he could do it again.

Yet, something held him down. Something as strong as chains—his reluctance, fear, or maybe his guilt. The guilt that still ate away at him from the inside for not answering Jongin when he'd called. 

So he let the guilt eat away at him as he picked at his food, eyes brokenly lingering on Jongin's shivering form.

~~~

It was after school when Kyungsoo finally mustered up the courage to talk to Jongin. And he knew just where to find him.

The younger was still seated under the same tree, shivering. Shrugging off his coat, Kyungsoo draped it over Jongin's form before taking a seat next to him. "It's cold out. Why aren't you wearing the jacket I gave you?" Jongin looked as if he'd witnessed a ghost in action. He tried standing up, only for Kyungsoo to tug him back down. "Why are you leaving? You called yesterday, didn't you? What was it about?"

The demons were lurking, watching his every move. Panicked, Jongin shook his head. "Nothing. It was for nothing."

"It that why you called me over five times yesterday? For nothing? I know you Jongin. You wouldn't even think about calling me if it were for nothing."

Giggles rang in Jongin's ears, and his breath tightened. His father's words floated around in his head and the loan glued itself to his thoughts. He shoved Kyungsoo's jacket off his shoulders. "You don't know anything about me, so stop pretending like you do. I need to go."

Kyungsoo grabbed onto his forearm again. "Are you mad because I didn't answer right away? I'm really sorry. I was in the shower and couldn't answer."

"It doesn't matter now let go of me."

This wasn't like Jongin. He was perfectly fine when they were tutoring—fine with receiving Kyungsoo's help and giving him room to take another step further. 

"Why are you suddenly avoiding me, Jongin? What happened last night after you left?"

Jongin flinched as the giggles grew louder. He heard whispers, howling like the wind in the trees. It was almost like he could feel their breaths ghosting across his face. Their hands were reaching for him—

Successfully pushing Kyungso's hand away, he abruptly stood up. "_Nothing_ happened. I'm going."

"Wait, Jongin—" But before Kyungsoo could grab onto him again, Jongin sprinted off. 

His heart wrenched in his chest at being brushed off. Jongin wasn't telling him something. The whole time, he hadn't even so much as spared a glance at him, eyes wide as he inspected the grass. Jongin hadn't even seemed like he was paying attention to what he was saying—his mind not fully with him. He believed—no, he _knew_—something had happened the night before. It was the only explanation for why Jongin was refusing to meet his eye. 

Disheartened, he grabbed his jacket from the base of the tree and dusted it off before choosing to head home.

~~~

The next day was no different. 

Jongin tried avoiding Kyungsoo as much as he possibly could during Calculus and Biology. The tutoring really paid off because during Calculus, Jongin was actually able to understand a bit of what Ms. Lee was trying to explain. So for once, he thought he'd pay attention. Anything to avoid Kyungsoo. The same process followed in Biology. He listened, tried to commemorate everything to memory without having to pull out a notebook to write everything down. 

The whole time, he felt Kyungsoo's eyes on him—knew they were boring into him. He was taking Kyungsoo's concentration away from the class. Even without trying, he was distracting him. 

_And if he misses everything going on in the class, it's no one's fault but your's._

_Someone_ seemed to like that a lot. 

Jongin shook his head and inhaled before releasing it slowly. If he just focused on trying to regulate his breathing, he'd be fine. He just had to pay attention to his breaths and the class and distract himself from his thoughts.

_After everything Kyungsoo had done for you, _this_ is how you repay him? _

Jongin inhaled sharply.

_This is exactly why your father said no one wants you._

He just had to focus on his breathing.

_You really think that's going to work? You know I'm here, Jongin. And you know I'm right. _

Jongin smacked his hands against his ears. If he covered his ears, it would block out the voices—

_Kyungsoo did so much for you and you can't even be grateful. You know you don't deserve him._

"What's wrong with him?" the echoing of someone's voice snapped Jongin's eyes open, only to catch Kyungsoo and the teacher watching him with worry, along with everyone else.

_Go on, make a bigger fool of yourself. Give them a good laugh. _

_Shut the fuck up, Kyungsoo's watching—_

"Jongin, are you okay?" Kyungsoo asked. The look of worry pained Jongin because he wasn't supposed to care—he shouldn't care.

_Kyungsoo is hurting because he associated himself with you. You should've just stayed away from him from the get-go._

"Jongin, look at me—"

Jongin shoved his seat back and bolted out of the class before he could make a scene, forgetting his bag in the process.

Everything his demon said was right. Kyungsoo'd looked so pained, so worried for him. No one should feel that way for him. No one should waste their energy on him. Yet Kyungsoo was. He wouldn't stop pushing—wouldn't stop trying to help. He was so perfect, so happy and joyful and packed with so much love.

Jongin didn't deserve that love.

Not when it was from Kyungsoo.

The closest washroom was down the hall, just across from the science lab. There were no signs of anyone being there when Jongin stepped in, so he chose the third stall and locked himself in. He leaned his upper body against the door and just breathed.

The voices in his head had faded, leaving him with the dull thudding of his heart in his ears. Even his breathing was beginning to even out again. 

Until it hitched when he heard the washroom door swing open and a familiar voice caught his ear. He must've followed him after he had left the class. "Jongin, are you in here?" Kyungsoo stopped in front of the stall Jongin was in and gently knocked. "Hey, I know you're in there. Are you feeling okay? You were mumbling to yourself and bolted out of class so I got worried."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Jongin's lips. When the butterflies were released, he completely forgot to respond to Kyungsoo. He heard something in his head—the voices—but the burning in his heart that provided cloaking warmth helped block it out.

Kyungsoo cleared his throat. "You don't have to respond back to me, but just knock on the door twice so I know you're okay." Two knocks came on the door. He grinned, feeling a bit lighter and reassured. "I'm glad. Well...now that I know you're feeling okay, I'll head back to class. I'll see you later then, I guess."

And even if it was temporary, Jongin could remain lightheaded and warm. The demons were dormant; no thoughts about being worthless were in his head; he didn't even think about the loan or how much money he'd have to pay back soon. Kyungsoo left class to check up on him, and he felt...

Cared for.

~~~

Solemnly dark clouds drifted overhead as Kyungsoo slumped back against the bleachers. Commands were shouted, some cheering and some groaning heard. Both Taeyong and Jungwoo were on the football team, and they had practice after school, so Kyungsoo had volunteered to stay behind and watch them. 

Going home had nothing for him, anyway, except homework that he could work on after dinner. 

Taeyong had the football in his hands and was running in the opposite direction. The team had been split into two to have a run-through—just so every player could get a feel of what their strengths were and where they were lacking.

Kyungsoo didn't really understand how football worked, except for those times when his father had forced him to watch games during football season until Kyungsoo gave up and pretended like he had a ton of homework to do just to avoid watching another game where his father would be throwing popcorn.

It was about half an hour later when Taeyong finally shouted for the players to take a fifteen minute break to pack up some energy with food and drinks. With that, Jungwoo tugged off his helmet as he jogged over to where Kyungsoo was seated on the bleachers as fast as his tired, wobbly legs could take him. Taeyong, on the other hand, was hanging back a bit to chat with a couple of their players.

"Hey," Jungwoo breathed, taking a seat and chugging his water down. "We weren't too shabby, were we?"

"I think you guys are pretty good. Taeyong pretty much killed everyone."

"As expected. He is the team captain, after all, so I don't think anyone expected anything less from him."

"Though you were good, too."

"Just good?" Jungwoo teased, only for Kyungsoo to scoff. Both fell into a comfortable silence as they watched Taeyong laugh along with one of the team players who was animatedly describing a story while making gestures with his hands. There was a heavy sigh on Kyungsoo's right, and he turned to see Jungwoo staring at him. "I've been meaning to ask you this for a while, but I never really found the chance to—do you like Jongin?"

"W-What gave you that impression?"

"Well, you ran out after him during Biology today. And you wanted to tutor Jongin so he wouldn't get expelled, plus the fact that you always seem to get defensive when anyone _tries_ to bring up Jongin in a conversation. And don't even think I haven't noticed how you always stare out the cafeteria window just to see Jongin. You even ran out on the first time we talked just so you could go outside and watch Jongin eat _your_ lunch. Don't even try to deny it."

Kyungsoo's embarrassed silence was more than enough of an answer.

"You know, I'm not judging you. Taeyong isn't, either. We've seen how you treat him, and you really care for him. You're the only person who has ever done that for him."

Kyungsoo took great interest in the loose thread on his pants at that moment. "I'm not so sure if I like him...I just don't want to see him hurt. Jungwoo, he needs someone. He refuses to show it, but he needs someone to be there for him. He constantly pushes me away but I can't help but worry about him. He's so closed-off from the world and I wish there was a way for me to break his shell. He needs someone to care for him—someone who'll be there when he needs them."

"Yep, you like him. And for the record, I think he likes you, too."

At that, Kyungsoo hated how his heart soared with hope. He wasn't supposed to set expectations and disappoint himself in the end. 

Jungwoo shrugged and adjusted his gear. "I mean, no one was ever able to approach him, but you did without hesitation. He actually, you know, interacts with you—unlike how he always pushed everyone away. He accepts your help when you offer it, even if he tries not to. That must mean he has _some_ feelings, at least." 

It was still too early to speak upon anything related to that. If it was halfway through November, that meant Kyungsoo and Jongin had only known each other for a little over one and a half months. They still had a long way to go—well, Kyungsoo did.

From where they were sitting, the giant tree where Jongin was seated was clearly visible, and Kyungsoo spotted said boy standing up to go home.

"Gonna go after lover boy?" Jungwoo joked.

That was actually what Kyungsoo had been planning on doing, but he still managed to throw Jungwoo a glare before dashing off to catch up with Jongin. Like always, Jongin went around the back of the school to exit through the back of the parking lot. His car was parked just a bit down, but it could wait as Kyungsoo caught up to Jongin.

Upon approaching, Kyungsoo felt hesitation cling to his chest, but it was only for a nanosecond—he hardly even noticed he had felt it—before he tapped Jongin on the shoulder. "Hey. How's it going?"

"K-Kyungsoo." 

Said man would never get over how nice his name sounded, rolling off Jongin's tongue. It was such a simple Korean name—hardly anything special—yet Jongin seemed to add a ring to it that completely changed its meaning and the feel to it. 

"How are you feeling?" Kyungsoo asked. "You bolted out of class and everyone was worried." I_ was really worried._

Jongin doubted anyone was worried about him, but instead he replied, "Better. Just wasn't feeling too well earlier."

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better. And..." He wasn't sure if this was his chance to bring up the night before. He didn't want Jongin to think he was being interrogated, but it concerned him. "Last night, you had something to say to me. I want you to tell me what happened. And you know I won't judge or anything, right? I'm not pressuring you. I just want you to know I'm here if you still need my help."

It was silent in Jongin's head. There were no whispers, nor were there giggles. It was suspicious—almost like his demons were waiting for the right moment to pounce.

But this was Kyungsoo. And he wanted to help him. He had a right to know.

"My father...borrowed money from loan sharks. With it, he bought expensive wine and a suit and silk sheets. But I don't have the money to pay them back."

Kyungsoo could feel Jongin's stress. If he tried to add all of that up, it would definitely cost thousands of dollars—and Jongin didn't even have money to pay it off.

"Don't worry. I'll help you." Kyungsoo even paired it with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"You will?"

"Of course, Jongin." 

"So you're Kim Jongin?" The voice was gruff, unpleasant, laced with the hint of a smile.

And the giggling struck him. 

They'd been waiting to string back into action.

Whirling around, Kyungsoo spotted a group of men in black. One of them, the tallest one, had a cigarette butt still sitting between his lips, while the shortest one had a nasty cut running from his left nostril up to his eyebrow. 

"This is Jongin?" the shortest one pointed his finger at Jongin, and Kyungsoo frowned. 

He grabbed Jongin's hand and stepped in front of him protectively. "Who are you people?"

They laughed. "Beat it kid, we gotta talk to your boyfriend."

_He's not my boyfriend_, Kyungsoo wanted to say, but that wasn't what was important right now. 

Jongin recognized them right away.

They were the loan sharks, here for his money. The money he didn't have.

Ignoring Kyungsoo, one of them pulled out a folded sheet from inside his jacket and handed it to the one with the scar. He unfolded it, shoving it in Jongin's face. "You see this? It's the contract you signed."

Words caught in Jongin's throat, tongue tied.

"He wasn't the one who signed it," Kyungsoo replied in his place, having finally caught on to who these men were. "His father did." 

"What difference does it make? His father obviously wasn't sane—considering he wrote his son's name on the contract instead of his own." Directing his attention to Jongin, he waved the contract. "Check the cost at the bottom, sweetheart. You're gonna have to pay that off soon."

_Eight thousand dollars._

He had to pay off eight thousand dollars.

Jongin felt faint, and if Kyungsoo's hand wasn't his only support, he would've fallen. 

The demons were still laughing in his ear.

"This isn't even a real contract!" Kyungsoo argued. "You can't just wave a sheet of paper in his face and call it a contract."

"Kyungsoo, stop," Jongin mumbled, hand clenching around the former's—hard. The murmuring in his head grew louder.

"Really? Then take a fucking look!"

"It's not even official. Who do you think you are to be bothering Jongin about his father's mistakes?"

"Please, stop." The murmuring turned into buzzing—an irritant humming in his eardrums.

"Then I'm sure you'll enjoy sitting in jail with your boyfriend when he can't pay back the loan."

"Go ahead. We'll see if I let you—"

"Kyungsoo!" Jongin didn't even hear himself call his name—couldn't hear anything past the giggling in his head.

To his relief, Kyungsoo stopped, and so did the loan sharks. 

The one with the cut on his face stuffed the contract into the pocket of his jacket. "We'll be back for the money. Why don't you contact us when you're ready to pay back." He threw their business card by Kyungsoo's feet and stalked off.

Kyungsoo's hand slipped from Jongin's as the latter crumbled to his knees. The ringing in his ear, the buzzing, turned to laughter. 

He was being laughed at. Mocked.

"Jongin, look at me. Are you okay?" Kyungsoo asked, dropping next to Jongin.

But he couldn't hear him.

The demons he'd tried to shove down—the ones he'd thought had gone away after Kyungsoo had checked up on him in the washroom—broke out of its chains and bubbled back up to the surface.

"Jongin, what's wrong?"

_He wants to help, and you can't even respond to him? This is why your father said no one wants you._

"Stop," Jongin mumbled. He could feel himself shaking.

"Hey, Jongin, it's okay. I'll help you. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."

Kyungsoo was being so caring. Despite the thousands of dollars Jongin had to pay back, he was still willing to help him. 

But as soon as the bubbles began floating in Jongin's stomach, the demons trampled them. 

_You don't deserve his help. You don't deserve anything._

_Stop. _He didn't know who he was thinking it to—Kyungsoo or the voices in his head. 

"It's okay, alright? Everything will be okay. Don't listen to them."

_You're fucking worthless. Kyungsoo shouldn't have directed his attention to someone like you._

Kyungsoo was trying to help—Jongin knew that. He could hear him. But just barely.

The voices wouldn't go away. They wouldn't stop talking, stop murmuring into his ear. And he couldn't shove them out—because he knew they were right. 

"Jongin, please, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

_What you gonna do? Take his money? You're a fucking beggar now, huh?_

"Please, stop." He hadn't even realized he'd said it out loud.

"Jongin, you're scaring me. Please look at me."

_He pities you, fucking rat._

When Jongin slapped his hands against his ears, the voices only got louder. 

So did the giggles.

"Shut up..."

"Jongin, seriously. What's wrong?"

He couldn't breathe. 

They were drowning him.

_Fucking disgrace. You never should've been born. You don't deserve Kyungsoo._

"S-Stop."

"Please talk to me!"

_You should feel sorry for being born—_

"Stop!" Jongin screamed. They were still laughing at him.

Kyungsoo flinched back at the sudden change of tone. He didn't know what was wrong—there was no way of knowing if Jongin wasn't _talking _to him. "What's wrong, Jongin? Please just let me help—"

His hand was slapped away as Jongin screamed. "Stop! I don't want your help! Get the fuck away from me!"

"Jongin, please, if you just talked to me—"

Jongin whimpered and pushed himself farther away. Shame and humiliation flushed his cheeks, and he felt cold. Empty. "If you want to help, then do me a favour and go away. Can't you see you're being a burden to me? Just...stay away from me. Please..."

Hearing it from Jongin hit different. It hurt more. And he looked so helpless—with unshed tears brimming his eyes and his voice small, tired, defeated. 

He'd only wanted to help, but instead he'd put another burden on Jongin's shoulders instead. He'd pushed him again—cornered him and rendered him vulnerable. This hadn't been the plan. He hadn't meant to hurt Jongin.

Jungwoo was wrong.

Jongin didn't like him.

He only saw him as a burden.

And a burden he was. A burden on Jongin's weak shoulders—those frail shoulders that already carried the weight of everyone's stares, and their stabbing words, and his father's debt, and his own self-loathing. And Kyungsoo had just plopped another heavy weight on his fragile heart. 

He was defeated. Kyungsoo smiled brokenly. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll leave."

When Kyungsoo left the sight of Jongin's peripheral vision, his figure fading, Jongin willed himself to lean back against the wall surrounding the parking lot and set his blazing hot tears free. 

He'd hurt Kyungsoo again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter was one rollercoaster ride. And not a fun one. I hadn't even planned for loan sharks to be part of the story or for this to happen this chapter, but oops. It did.


	15. Chapter 14

Somewhere in the distance, there was the ringing of an owl's hoot. The moon had long since taken the place of the sun in the sky, its luminescent light barely enough to light up the street.

Inside the club was packed, the lights all turned off save for the colourful lights of red and blue and purple that danced across the faces of those on the dance floor and across the walls. Smolder-like smoke covered the expanse of their surroundings, easily shaping itself to fit in the room, weaving through clumped bodies. The dance floor was packed, sweaty, lively-spirited bodies pressed up against one another in the small space. Music pounded in everyone's ears, the bass dropping and reverberating off the walls in the club. The tension was high—the air heavy and stifling, but that was how everyone liked it. 

Kyungsoo would've rather been home, doing his unfinished homework or studying for their next Calculus test, but Taeyong had called right before he could even pick up his pencil, ordering him to pull on his best pair of jeans and dress nicely because they were going to pay a visit to the club. Of course, Kyungsoo tried arguing—he had things he would rather be doing—but Taeyong wouldn't back down from it, either, calling him uptight and boring and that he had to "loosen up a bit." So Kyungsoo found himself shimmying into the only pair of skinny jeans he had and threw on a white t-shirt with a denim jacket over it. He even slicked his hair back, which was something he never did.

Taeyong and Jungwoo seemed impressed.

Taeyong ushered them to an empty table and Kyungsoo gladly threw himself over it, proceeding to massage his calves. They felt stiff and sore. 

A group of girls walked past, each of them wearing something more revealing than the first. One of them even chanced a glance at their group and threw a wink at Kyungsoo when her eyes landed on him. Kyungsoo curled back into the seat. 

In this particular atmosphere, he really didn't feel like he belonged. He never really was the partying type, choosing to instead spend his time flipping through novels rather than hanging around in the club. He never liked booming noises or crowded spaces.

But Taeyong had insisted that he stop reading his books for once and have fun. Besides, it was a Friday. They could stay up until six in the morning partying, not that Kyungsoo wanted to, though.

"What drinks do you want?" Taeyong yelled above the music resonating in his ears. Jungwoo replied saying he wanted a Margarita, but Kyungsoo shook his head.

"I don't drink," he said. Taeyong cocked an eyebrow and was about to retaliate before shutting his mouth. He had already gone through the troubles of dragging Kyungsoo all the way here. He wasn't planning on chasing him off after going through the efforts just to drag him here.

During the few minutes that Taeyong was away, Kyungsoo finally felt as if he could relax. Despite the music and the heavy lingering scent of cologne and perfume, it wasn't so bad.

As if he could read his mind, Jungwoo said, "So? What do you think? First time going to a club?"

It wasn't Kyungsoo's first time at a club—Chanyeol would always drag him out to parties or clubs because he felt Kyungsoo was being too "nerdy" and needed to have more fun and "get laid." "It's not my first time in general, but it is my first time here in Seoul. It's much more...lively here."

"It's different, isn't it?"

It was different, Kyungsoo wanted to say. Not a particularly bad different, just...unusual.

From somewhere, the faint smell of cigarettes drifted towards their table, and Kyungsoo wrinkled his noise. Eventually, Taeyong returned to the table with his hands full of glasses. He slid the Margarita across the table to Jungwoo and took a sip of his own. Leaning back, Kyungsoo just watched, not really sure what else he was supposed to do. 

Music continued to bellow on the dance floor. 

"See anyone you like?" Taeyong asked, pointing to the large groups of girls on the dance floor. He twirled his drink in his glass for a bit before taking a swig. "That girl on the left looks kinda cute. Don't feel like going up to her right now, though. Maybe later." 

The girl he had pointed at had auburn hair that glowed bright red underneath the lights, lighting up like a pit of fire. Her form-fitting black dress complemented her dark eyes, but a complete contrast to her hair. She seemed about their age—maybe a bit older, but definitely not too old.

Kyungsoo cocked an eyebrow. He had to admit, she was pretty—but he wasn't really interested in anyone.

He had other stuff on his mind.

"Not gonna snag anyone?" Jungwoo elbowed Kyungsoo gently in the ribs. He was only joking—Kyungsoo knew that. Besides, his cover had already been blown and both he and Taeyong already knew that he had a crush. 

But Kyungsoo still scanned the crowd on the dance floor, almost considering it. Maybe he could talk to someone. He had no plans of taking anyone home—he wasn't really that kind of guy—but he did consider making a new friend. He could chat someone up and get to know them better—be friendly. 

Then his mind drifted elsewhere. 

It had been days since he last talked to Jongin. It was a while since he had dropped the bomb on him—that he wasn't needed, that he was a burden. And after that, avoiding Jongin came easily. At first, he had pushed himself to avoid him—to ignore the tugging in his heart that cursed him out and told him to go back and talk to him. But then, Jongin just started showing up to school less and less. He would purposely skip out on the classes that he knew he shared with Kyungsoo, and would instead tuck himself away behind the school where no one else could find him. The only reason Kyungsoo had known Jongin was still attending school was because they'd made eye contact in the hall countless times, until either Jongin swerved in the opposite direction, making it impossible for Kyungsoo to follow him in the tight throng of students, or because Kyungso would be the one ducking out of sight. 

His nights had been fitful. He'd lay awake for hours, staring up at his ceiling and twisting this way and that in bed, no position comfortable for him and every breath loud in his ears in comparison to the silent room. And when he did manage to fall asleep, he'd have no dreams—just the lingering feeling of falling into a dark abyss, his body being tugged down and falling through the mattress. 

At one point, he'd given up and opened his phone to message Jongin. Just a simple message like: _Are you doing okay? You know I'm still here if you need any help_. But he'd chickened out before hitting send and deleted every word and tucked his phone under his pillow and returned to cursing himself out for being an idiot. 

"Taeyong?" Kyungsoo said, voice barely above a whisper, but said boy somehow managed to hear him above the music because he turned his attention to him.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any of your drink left?"

Startled in place, Taeyong could only blank out before his lips twitched into a smirk and he wordlessly slid his glass of Margarita over to Kyungsoo. The coolness of the drink frosted his fingers as he wrapped his fingers around the glass and tipped his head back, downing it to the very last drop. Even Jungwoo stop drinking to stare in awe. The moment it all slid down his throat, Kyungsoo wrinkled his noise at the mix of sweet and sour, but then concluded that he didn't really care as long as he got another one.

He really needed it.

So Taeyong decided to fetch one for him, finding it quite amusing.

"Wanna go dance?" Jungwoo asked, nodding his head in the direction of the dance floor. "I think that group of girls wants us to come over."

Kyungsoo shook his head, blinking down at his own glass of Margarita that Taeyong had so kindly gotten for him. "I'll stay here with this."

"If you say so."

As the two hobbled over to the dance floor, pulled in by the pounding of the music in their eardrums, Kyungsoo took another sip of his drink. He decided he quite liked the salt and the tequila combo with lime.

And it was something to take his mind off of a certain someone. A way for him to down his guilt every time it bubbled in his throat and tried to sizzle up to the surface, and a way to take his mind off the apology he had scripted out in his head, only to never hit send. Jongin wouldn't want his sad excuse of an apology, anyways.

His gaze landed on his friends in the crowd, chatting animatedly with the group of girls they had been eyeing, throwing all caution to the wind as they all laughed over something Jungwoo was talking about. Maybe Kyungsoo could be part of that group—yelling over the music and giggling into his palm like the rest of them, throwing his thoughts and worries away and just enjoying himself. But he was still restrained to his spot because no matter how hard he tried to suppress the ache in his heart, it still managed to stare him straight in the eye, and somehow, it was winning this competition. 

At some point, he realized that nothing was dripping from the glass when he tipped it back. He sighed as he placed his empty glass down and glared offendedly at it. He'd finished drinking it all. He raised his head to ask Taeyong to get him another one, only to remember that his friends were on the dance floor. Another sigh escaped him before he could hold it back when it dawned on him that he would actually have to physically approach the bar himself if he wanted another drink.

And boy did he need it.

Thanks to Chanyeol who often shoved a few glasses of alcohol down his throat whenever he spotted an open window, the full glass of Margarita and the few sips from Taeyong's glass weren't enough to get him tipsy yet. 

Pushing himself up out of the booth, he stumbled over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high leather chairs as he waited for the bartender to take his order. The bartender was a guy who seemed to be in his early twenties, calmly cleaning out the inside of a wine glass and ridding it of any water droplets. He raised his head, his icy blue eyes that glowed like frost on the edge of a windowsill making contact with Kyungsoo's, and he nodded his head, assuring that he was well aware of the latter's presence and would tend to him soon. 

After placing the glass away, the bartender stood in front of Kyungsoo to take his order. "What would you like?"

"Can I get a Margarita—Actually, give me your strongest drink."

"Then I hope you don't mind Scotch whiskey. It is pretty expensive, though." 

It was fine—as long as it got Kyungsoo drunk. He didn't really know what had gotten into him, but his heart thumped in a way that shouldn't be deemed normal, or maybe his ears were failing him. His chest twisted in a sickening way that should've been painful, but Kyungsoo wasn't sure whether he was supposed to laugh over it or cry. Either way, he wanted that pain to be numbed.

The bartender slid his drink across the counter and leaned forward. "So what's going on with you on this dark Friday night, if you don't mind me asking? You must be trying to get drunk out of your mind."

Kyungsoo chuckled under his breath, lips twitching. "What gave you that idea?"

"Well not everyone comes up to the counter and asks for the strongest drink. You don't even look like you're here to hit up anyone."

Tilting his head down, Kyungsoo glared into the clear glass in his hands, the whiskey glistening a clear burnt orange. "Was dragged here by my friends."

The young bartender clucked his tongue and nodded in understanding. "Yep, it's always the friends, tugging you along to waste yourselves away. My friends would do that, too, a couple of years ago—before I became a bartender and was glued to these clubs." 

The music in the background drowned out whatever he was planning on saying next, and they both fell silent. The drink sloshed about in Kyungsoo's glass and he raised it to his lips again, taking another swig. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the alcohol rushing into his bloodstream. Before he knew it, his head began to feel heavy.

He laughed to himself. The alcohol was really starting to strum his nerves like a zither. 

Yet that heavy, sickening feeling still sat in the pit of his stomach, and he let out a long sigh.

Maybe it was the alcohol that was thrumming a hundred miles per hour in his blood, or maybe it was just because he felt he needed to get it out of his system, because the moment he started talking, he realized he couldn't silence himself.

"Have you ever liked someone before?" But when the words left his mouth, Kyungsoo realized how stupid it sounded, so he rephrased it. "I mean, not like as in friends, or as a crush, but a deeper kind of like. The kind where you're not sure if it's love, but it's not just a simple crush."

The bartender glanced up from where he was putting together another drink for a guy who had just arrived. "Well, I don't know. I might've, but I haven't really felt anything special towards someone in a while. Why do you ask? Do you have someone like that in your heart?"

Looking into his glass, Jongin's face flashed before his eyes. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Girl or boy?"

"Boy."

"Well, shit." The bartender paused and leaned against the counter, his full attention on Kyungsoo. "What's he like?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest. He's pretty—" Kyungsoo smirked at that. "He's really pretty, but other than that, I don't think I know anything about him. He seems shy, and he's quiet, but he prefers to hide. He tucks himself away into a place where he doesn't want anyone finding him. And no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to get past his barriers."

He slid his glass across the counter, asking for another, and the bartender stared warily at him and his bleary eyes, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he said, "How pretty is he?"

Kyungsoo smiled goofily. "Really pretty. So, so pretty. He himself doesn't realize it...but his eyes honey eyes twinkle under the sun when his bangs are slightly pushed to the side...His skin glows like golden...and his lips are plush and pink...And he's taller than me...but I want to be there for him...protect him from the world...Don't you think it's funny?" he said to no one in particular.

"Jesus, you're fucking in love—it's almost disgusting to look at. So, it seems you haven't confronted him about your feelings, I assume?" Kyungsoo shook his head in response. 

"I don't...think he feels the same...way about me. He told me...to stay away from him...I was being a nuisance..." He held the glass to his lips, barely grazing the rim, and just fell silent. His mushy brain couldn't piece together where the music was coming from anymore, and if the laughter he heard was from the dance floor or in his head—laughing at himself for being so foolish, so stupid as to fall for someone. And to think he and Jongin would ever have a chance to even be friends.

What had he brought upon himself?

The bartender sighed. "Look, man, you're probably thinking that loving him isn't worth it anymore. I don't know the full story, or what goes on between you two. I'm just gonna say that you shouldn't give up on him. You never know—maybe he didn't mean what he said to you. His side of the story might be different from how you perceived it."

"But—"

"Kyungsoo!" 

Said boy turned his head, and he cursed under his breath as he continued to blink his blurry eyes. But if he squinted, he could barely make out the foggy silhouette of two figures. 

"Kyungsoo!" the guy called again, closer this time, and Kyungsoo realized it was Taeyong. He smacked Kyungsoo's shoulder. "You weren't at the table when we returned. We looked everywhere and couldn't find you. We thought you'd left. Are—Are you _drunk_?" 

"...Maybe," Kyungsoo replied, tipping his glass back only to frown when nothing slid out of it.

Taeyong shook his head and grabbed his arm while Jungwoo grabbed the other. "Come on, let's go. We'll drop you off." Kyungsoo insisted on paying for his own drinks until he remembered that he had foolishly left his wallet. In the end, Jungwoo paid for him.

They hauled him out of his seat and tugged him along to the exit, and Kyungsoo looked over his shoulder and threw a drunk grin to the bartender, who flashed him a smile of his own. 

It was around two in the morning when Kyungsoo stumbled into his apartment and crashed into bed. His finger hovered over a message—again—and like always, he deleted it and tucked his phone under his pillow and screwed his eyes shut, hoping to forget about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm really sorry for dying on y'all for over five weeks. It's just that January was my exam month, plus I was buried under so much homework that month, too, and couldn't' get around to writing. Not to mention that my friend got me into The Untamed and I finished all 50 episodes that are 45 minutes long in only a week because I couldn't put it down and couldn't focus on anything else and cried an ocean. I even rewatched it and I can't move on, so that's what I've been hung over ever since the first week of January. Hope you all understand :)


	16. Chapter 15

After his sudden outburst the week before, the demons had subdued, finally resting at bay and silencing themselves in Jongin's head. But a part of Jongin wished that they'd just come back—if it meant Kyungsoo would, too. He would live with demons in his head any day if it meant he could take back the words he had said to him. 

And it was even worse that now, Kyungsoo was avoiding him, too. Before, Jongin was the only one playing that game, but now that two were playing at the game, he really didn't think he could handle it.

So he started showing up less and less to school. He was purposely skipping the classes he had with Kyungsoo—it made avoiding easier if he didn't see him at all. That way, he could convince himself that he did the right thing.

The loan sharks had shown up at his house once or twice, demanding the money. Each time they left with smiles on their faces, and on Jongin's face—a bruise or two. Every time he sat in the house, he'd see the dress-shoes sitting by the door, and the silks sheets neatly folded on the couch, and have the sudden urge to vomit. 

But if he wasn't at school, and he refused to head home, he didn't know where else he could wander. Suddenly, he was reminded of Kyungsoo's apartment. His warm, cozy apartment practically made for two. He thought of his appetizing cooking and his comfortable bed. 

His chest felt carved open—like a rotting cavity that wouldn't heal or go away.

4AM on Monday found Jongin startling awake in his bed, his hair sticking to his nape with cold sweat and his temples throbbing. Without much thought, he grabbed his phone and typed out a message.

_I don't know what to do._

The brightness of his screen blared in his eyes, his eyelids aching, and when his hazy mind registered that his finger was hovering over the _send_ button, he quickly backspaced everything and threw his phone to the other end of the bed and pulled his black wool sweater tighter around his form. He hadn't crawled under the covers—hadn't felt like it. 

Just then, the front door clicked open, and Jongin held his breath. There was the sound of shoes being slipped off and sharp intakes of breath as someone staggered out in the living room. His father was back from drinking. There was the clatter of something hitting the table's surface—probably a half-full bottle of alcohol—and the jingle of keys as his father set those down as well. The footsteps dragged closer, the loose floorboards creaking under the weight of his steps and then his bedroom door swung open and slammed shut. 

Jongin stretched himself out on the bed before feeling that uncomfortable crawling in his stomach and curled in on himself. He tossed for a bit, first facing his dirty mirror that he wished he had covered with a cloth to avoid seeing his own reflection, and then turning to face the wall as he waited for sleep that refused to come. 

He laid awake, finally rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling after tossing and turning to find a comfortable position to no avail. It was 6:32 AM when he gave up on trying to find sleep and tugged himself off the mattress. It wasn't all that comfortable, anyway, so he had no qualms of leaving it. 

School started in a few hours, but he wasn't in the mood to attend. Attending would mean sitting through more hour-long lessons of stuff he didn't understand, and having to avoid the one person who he actually longed to see more than anyone. He didn't think he was ready for another week of that. 

Another week of avoiding and longing and disappointment—mainly at himself. 

He'd been able to avoid Kyungsoo for a couple of days in the halls and in classes, but just how long could he continue avoiding him until one of them cracked? Or until Jongin died of longing and heartache? 

He sighed, hobbling out of bed and rummaging through his drawer until his fingers hit a leather cover and a hard spine, and he found what he was looking for. Pulling the large Korean dictionary out, he flipped through the pages until he came across a wad of cash he had tucked away from his father's prying eyes. He picked up a twenty dollar bill and a couple of coins before slapping the dictionary shut and shoving it back into his drawer, proceeding to pile a few clothes on top of it. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he quietly tiptoed down the hall and slipped his feet into his shoes.

The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the buildings, emitting enough warmth to keep his shivering at bay.

He walked in the natural direction of his school, but instead of continuing to head straight, he turned left at the bend to the bus stop. He shifted from foot-to-foot as he waited. There was an older girl in a suit, hair pulled back into a bun. She was probably heading to work. A mother was trying to straighten out her daughter's ponytail, only for her daughter to cause a fuss over how her hair kept being pulled. The corners of Jongin's lips twitched, and then he was hit with a pang in his chest—a feeling he couldn't quite put a finger to. 

The bus rolled around a few minutes later, its tires screeching to a halt right before them and the doors opened. Jongin bowed his head, letting his hair fall in his eyes, the strands causing his forehead to itch, and he stayed back until the mother and daughter had gotten onto the bus before he climbed in last. He paid the bus fare and stalked to the back of the bus for an empty seat. 

He felt a few pairs of eyes on him, and the bruise under his left eye—a parting gift from the loan sharks—throbbed and ached. He reached up to ruffle his hair, causing it to fall farther across his forehead, hopefully covering the bruise now. 

There was an empty seat near the very back next to an elder woman. Slumping down, he pulled his bag onto his lap and rested his head against the window. The bus jerked as its engine rumbled, and the tires began rolling. Every bump the bus hit sent Jongin's head colliding with the glass of the window. It wasn't helping him fall asleep at all.

But maybe staying awake was a good thing.

~~~

Once the bus stopped moving in Busan, Jongin hopped off. The last time he had visited this place was in ninth grade when he had tried to flee from his father for the weekend. It hadn't ended well. He'd gotten into a fight with a couple of older high schoolers who had tried selling drugs to him, and all of them ended up at the police station with cuts and bruises and a few sprains. When the officer had asked him for his parents' information, Jongin had lied and said he didn't have parents. In the end, his teacher had driven all the way out to Busan to get him, ruining her perfectly good weekend.

It was only a ten minute walk when Jongin felt the air getting cooler and his nose was filled with the fresh smell of salt. There was the distant cry of the seagulls overhead, and the gentle push and pull of the tides as they hit the sand on Haeundae beach. As Jongin stepped onto the sand, his shoes sinking in, and he drew nearer to the edge of the water, the gusts of wind nipping at his face began to sting, itching the tip of his nose. Its cold fingertips crawled under his sweater, and he shivered. He wished he'd taken Kyungsoo's coat with him.

There were barely any people here—it was Monday, after all. An elderly couple linked arms as they strolled, each wearing thick padded coats that made Jongin feel more exposed than he really was.

He laid his bag down and rested his head on it, shifting to get in a comfortable position. The sun was high in the sky now, illuminating the white sand and giving it a bronze tinge. Jongin shut his eyes to keep the light out, but it still managed to burn through his eyelids, the whole world turning bright red.

The hours of sleep he had lost from his nightmare slowly crept back to him, humming in his ears in tune with the gentle crash of the waves. And the beach was quiet with barely anyone to disturb him. Plus, if he fell asleep, he could forget about the cold raking through his skin and trying to dig down into his bones.

Sleep came fairly easy this time when he rested his eyes, almost as if it were hiding around the corner, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Just like that, his whole body relaxed, the tensions in his muscles loosening as he sagged into the sand and let it pull him under into the dark abyss.

~~~

"—ngin. Jongin. Jongin, wake up." Just like that, a voice pulled him out of the bottomless pit, a hand gently shaking his shoulder. 

He knew this voice. It was the voice he would hear in his dreams, the voice that called his name so tenderly—gave it a whole new meaning. It was the one he longed to hear, so close yet so far away, right by his fingers, yet still unreachable. 

And he wondered if he opened his eyes, would the voice match the face of the person he wished to see?

When his eyelids fluttered open, it was him. It was really him, on his knees as he bent over Jongin's resting frame, his face so close, his smile so sweet. The large eyes twinkled and the plush lips stretched out into a wider grin upon seeing him awake.

"Wake up, you sleepy head. It's been two hours already," Kyungsoo said, finally resting back to give Jongin room to sit up.

"Kyungsoo?" He couldn't believe it. It was really him, right before him, smiling like there was nothing wrong. "What are you doing here?"

The latter furrowed his eyebrows, like Jongin had just told some sick joke. "What do you mean? I've been here for awhile. I sat next to you as you fell asleep. You told me to wake you up in about half an hour, but you ended up sleeping for two hours instead. Sorry for that, by the way. I meant to wake you up, but you looked so pretty and peaceful sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you." Kyungsoo grinned, flashing his pearly teeth—a clear sign that he truly didn't feel sorry at all. Then, he reached up and ruffled his hair, trying to push a few strands back into place after Jongin had messed it up in his sleeping position.

It felt so normal—seeing him smiling at him and fixing his hair.

But it ached even more, because that smile shouldn't belong to him. He didn't deserve it. "Kyungsoo, I'm...really sorry." Somehow, the words didn't lodge themselves in his throat, like he'd been saying those three words all his life—like he hadn't had to bite his tongue whenever something occurred.

Again, Kyungsoo had that questioning look on his face before he laughed. "Sorry for what, silly? Over sleeping? That was my fault, not yours. Besides, you didn't miss anything big. I just sat here and watched you sleep for two hours."

Jongin didn't understand. There was no way Kyungsoo had been here all along; he had fallen asleep alone. And did Kyungsoo not remember how he had pushed him away? Why was he sitting here with him like it was the most casual thing in the world? Somethings weren't adding up. Yet, Jongin didn't want to change that. Kyungsoo was here, smiling at him, warming him up from the inside.

Everything felt...

Right.

"Come on, you're probably stiff and sore. Let's take a walk by the shore." Kyungsoo stood up and dusted the sand off his pants. Jongin just noticed that he was wearing and a simple white t-shirt, even though it was supposed to be cold. Was he not cold? 

And then Jongin noticed what he was wearing. His sweater and sweatpants were replaced with shorts and a simple tank top. This wasn't what he normally wore. He never wore things that were too exposing in fear that others would see some of his bruises, but here he was. Suddenly, he was reminded of the bruise on his face, and wondered if Kyungsoo could see it. He didn't want that. He shook his head to get his hair to fall before his eyes, but when he did, the strands of hair only fell across his forehead—they weren't long enough to fall in front of his face. He reached up to touch his hair and noticed that it was much shorter than he normally kept it.

But now that he thought about it, it wasn't that cold either. And the old couple weren't here anymore. Instead, the beach was loud and vividly alive with noise—parents shouting, children laughing as they splashed around in the water. Everyone was in their bathing suits.

It was summer.

It finally clicked in his head. 

This was a dream.

He looked up at Kyungsoo who was now bending over slightly with his hand out, urging Jongin to hold it so he could pull him up. If it was a dream, then that meant the Kyungsoo next to him wasn't real. His heart spiralled in disappointment. But maybe it was for the best. Even in his dreams, he could picture Kyungsoo's smile perfectly.

And if this was a dream, that meant there was nothing stopping him from...anything, really. 

He stared up at Kyungsoo's hand, then at his expectant face, before reaching up to hold his hand and let him pull him up. 

The hot summer sun beat down on them, and Jongin could almost feel its heat—it felt too vivid and real. A group of children ran by, playing tag, and Kyungsoo's eyes widened before he wrapped an arm around Jongin's waist and tugged him into his side, away from the children. 

Jongin's heart stopped for a full ten seconds as he let out a gasp. He swore his face burned hotter than the sun in the sky as he looked into Kyungsoo's eyes, and the whole world seemed to crumble away. Kyungsoo smiled back at him, as if this were completely normal, and then his arm slipped from his waist back down to his side. 

Looking up at the sky, Kyungsoo hummed, letting his eyes slip closed for a few seconds as he bathed in the sun's glow and the warm summer breeze flew through his hair. "It's so hot. I should've bought us ice cream. Let's go get some after, okay?"

Wordlessly, Jongin just nodded stupidly. He hadn't had ice cream in a while—hadn't ever been in the mood for it—but this was Kyungsoo. With him, he was in the mood for anything.

Pausing, Jongin stepped closer to the water until his feet were brushing the edges of the tides, and bent down to look at his reflection. Indeed, his hair was shorter—in a style that he had never seen himself with before. And the bruise under his eye...was gone. Just to make sure, he pressed the skin under his eye. He didn't feel anything. 

He didn't even realize how far he had been bent over the water, or the tiptoeing behind him, until he sent flying into the water, landing on all fours in the shallow rise and fall of the waves, the water reaching his elbows now.

Whipping his head around, he glared. "Kyungsoo!" The moment he yelled it, though, he paused. He'd never yelled before. Never showed this much emotion. Yet for some reason, it all came so naturally to him in this dream, like he'd been doing it all his life.

Kyungsoo cackled, holding his stomach as he doubled over, but he still laced his fingers with Jongin's to pull him up, laughing a little harder as he saw how his wet clothes now clung to his form. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't help it. It was way too tempting." Trying to stifle the remainder of his laughter, Kyungsoo inspected Jongin's palms and gently caressed the small indents the rocks in the water had left before looking up at him. "Aw, Jongin, don't pout at me like that."

He was...pouting?

Jongin glanced to the side into the water, and sure enough, he was pouting. He'd never pouted before. Never even thought about doing something so childish.

This dream seemed different. It wasn't overcome by darkness and echoing footsteps and silent screams of terror. It was...light and warm, and he was seeing himself react in ways he'd never seen himself do. But maybe, all these images of him had rested in the back of his mind for some time. Maybe these images of him had just been waiting for the right time to spring up. Maybe they had just been waiting for Jongin to crawl out of his shell. 

The sun seemed to beat down harder than ever, and Kyungsoo took a sharp inhale before letting it out with a content sigh. The streams of light danced on his features before crumbling when Kyungsoo turned his head to look back at him. That warm, fuzzy feeling came back—like he wanted to take a photo of this moment and never let it go. 

Too bad it was a dream. He'd never experience this in reality.

And just like that, the fluttering vanished and instead left bile in his throat and a soggy feeling in his stomach. He fell silent and Kyungsoo produced a towel from nowhere and began towelling him off. Jongin flinched, trying to shy away from his touch, but he was a magnet—and a very strong one at that. It was like Jongin couldn't pull himself away no mater how hard he pulled himself back.

"Stop moving," Kyungsoo huffed. "I have to towel you off, though it is kind of hot. But you don't have an extra change of clothes. Shit, I really didn't think that through, did I?"

"Don't you have clothes?" Jongin blurted, before realizing what had just come out of his mouth and he bowed his head to hide behind his hair—only to remember that his hair wasn't long in this dream.

Pausing, Kyungsoo just stared before his lips curled into a playful smirk. "Why, Jongin? You wanna borrow my clothes?"

"T-That's n-not—" But it came out garbled and Jongin just wished Kyungsoo would shove him back into the water and leave him there.

Kyungsoo seemed to understand, though, because he just smiled warmly and shook his head, dismissing it completely. 

But something still gnawed at him continuously. This was just a dream, and yet it still bothered him. Why was Kyungsoo so happy with him when he'd hurt him? What was the point of this dream? To break his heart and remind him of what he wouldn't ever have? To add onto the guilt that already weighed him down? 

"You've gone silent," Kyungsoo observed, popping Jongin's bubble.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just tired again, I guess."

"Then you can take another nap." Jongin wasn't given time to argue before Kyungsoo was grabbing his wrist and they were weaving through parents and children until they were near the back of the beach. He was pushed down until he was laying across the sand and Kyungsoo took a seat next to him. "Go back to sleep."

"B-But I don't wanna—"

"Sleep." It was a simple, straight-forward demand, but something in his voice had Jongin's blood running cold. The underlying warning and the frost that glazed over it was unmistakable. 

Why was there such a sudden change in demeanour? This wasn't the same Kyungsoo from moments ago. This wasn't the sweet and playful Kyungsoo. This was someone else.

His clothes were still wet—he was sure the sand was sticking to him—but Kyungsoo placed a firm hand on his eyes, pushing his head back down.

"Sleep."

He felt the ground open up beneath him, and he was falling into the dark abyss all over again.

~~~

He was still here, he noticed when he peeled his eyes open. It was dark now, not a single person on the beach. But there were clouds in the sky—lots of them—and not a single star. His body felt heavy, like it was anchored down. Kyungsoo wasn't next to him.

That had him sitting up, only to see a faint figure in the distance. He was toeing at the sand with his sneakers, the water slapping against his shoes and he kept walking, farther and farther away.

_Kyungsoo?_ he thought, and just like that, the figure turned as if on cue. 

Kyungsoo blankly stared at him, no longer digging the front of his sneakers into the sand. There were no screams of terror, no echoing footsteps, but the darkness that always overcame his dreams came in the form of Kyungsoo's lips curling up into a broken smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

And Jongin understood.

He was walking away from him again. 

No. No, no. He was going to vomit. It couldn't be. He couldn't walk away from him again. He got him back, didn't he? Kyungsoo wasn't upset anymore. He wasn't holding a grudge. So why was he walking away?

He was leaving him again.

Because Jongin had pushed him away.

Kyungsoo turned and continued walking, hair blowing gently in the breeze that Jongin couldn't feel but knew was there. 

His chest felt bare—hollow—like someone had reached inside and yanked his heart out. He pushed himself up to run after him but the sand held onto him, coiling around his feet and pulling him down as if it were quicksand. He was running—he knew he was running—so why wasn't he moving? 

Kyungsoo was getting farther and farther away.

_Please don't leave. Don't go. I didn't mean to push you away._

But he couldn't speak anymore. His throat contracted around the words, and then forcefully pushed them down, forcing him to swallow them all. His mouth gaped open, but his name wouldn't come out. His legs gave out from underneath him, and he slipped, barely catching himself on his hands and knees.

There was something soft underneath his palm—something with a different texture than sand. He looked down.

It was a dried white rose.

~~~

Jongin's eyes flew open, the corners wet with tears. It wasn't dark at all. The sun was still high up in the sky—he guessed it was around noon now. Seagulls still cried overhead and the tides still pushed against the shore. He slowly sat up, and then winced at the ache in his shoulder from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in. His mouth felt parched and his stomach felt empty. He wiped off the sand that clung to his sweater before standing up to find a place to eat. As the breeze nipped at his skin under his clothes, he really began to wish he had brought Kyungsoo's jacket.

His legs wobbled like jello, and he wondered, for the slightest moment, if that dream had been real, only to shake his head. He'd lost Kyungsoo twice—in reality and in his dreams. The image of Kyungsoo's fleeting back was going to haunt him for eternity. There was no way he'd ever forgive him. Even Jongin couldn't forgive himself. 

All Kyungsoo had wanted to do was help him, and how did Jongin repay him for his kindness? By running away. 

Because that was what he did best. Hurting people who tried to help him and then running away.

But he couldn't have what happened in the past happen again.

He just...couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dried white roses: symbolize sorrow; "Death is Preferable to Loss of Virtue"
> 
> I'm so sorry it takes me awhile to upload chapters. I've been prolonging them getting together for so long that I'm even starting to give myself a headache :(


	17. Chapter 16

Classes on Wednesday seemed to tick by as slow as they possibly could. The whole lesson was a blur, from start to finish, and Jongin wasn't really sure when the bell had rung, but everyone was already getting up and moving onto their last period class.

He couldn't be more exhausted. Mentally, definitely. Physically, sort of.

After rushing back from Busan the other day, he couldn't get the dream out of his head. It just brought more shame upon him. But he still told himself that keeping Kyungsoo away was the best thing he could do for him and himself. He would break Kyungsoo—he'd cause him to self-destruct. It happened before, and it would most likely happen again. And Kyungsoo was a great person. Jongin couldn't do that to him.

Images of the year before filled his head. The murky room. The echoing of the footsteps. The blood and the bruises. Shutting his eyes, Jongin anxiously twined his fingers together. Everything was okay now, he chanted to himself like a mantra. _He_ was gone, and that was all that mattered. 

And he really did believe that. Until he saw a shadow.

The days were growing shorter, and the wind carried along with it the chills of winter's promise. Fields of grass began wilting and losing their green tint, turning a dirty brown. The sun no longer provided the warmth that it should, and more and more, Jongin wished he had brought Kyungsoo's jacket with him. But he'd rather dig a hole for himself to burrow into than let Kyungsoo catch him wearing that jacket.

Dried leaves of orange and yellow and red scattered the ground beneath the tree behind the school. Clearing a space on the ground for him to sit, Jongin leaned back against the familiar rough texture of the tree's bark, completely immune to its jagged edges and rough scratches. Classes were nearing an end and Jongin mentally counted down. _5...4...3...2..._ The shill ringing of the bell stopped his countdown, and he peeled his eyes open just in time to see the side doors of the school bust open and the large crowd of students trickle out. His instincts caused him to curl back farther against the tree, the wood digging into his skin through the thin shirt he'd thrown on hastily that morning. 

The engine of the buses slowed as they all parked in a long line against the side of the school, their doors wide open for students to hop in. A couple of students, whose buses were probably late, hung back in mini groups and they chatted for some time. 

When the last bus rumbled off, Jongin stood up and dusted himself off and slung his bag over his shoulder. He made his way to the parking lot at the back of the school, where he always exited from. He rounded the bend out of the parking lot and paused.

The hand he had on the strap of his bag tightened and he froze. His blood ran cold. The galloping of his heart in his chest reached his ears, mixed with his panting. His fingers curled until his blunt nails were digging into his palm and his chest clenched, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment. 

It couldn't be. It couldn't be _him_. There was no way he'd returned. He'd disappeared from his life—he couldn't return no matter how hard he tried. But he swore he saw his shadow. He couldn't mistake that figure. There was no way he'd ever mistake that figure anywhere. He'd never mistake _him_ for anyone else, even if he was in a throng of people downtown. He was sure he saw that figure right there—even if it were only for a split second—turning the corner. 

But then he blinked, and he was gone. There was no shadow. No figure turning the corner. It was just Jongin, frozen on the road with his nails digging into the fabric of his bag's strap. His toes curled in his shoes, and he mumbled to himself to just breathe and relax. He was just tired. He was hallucinating. It'd been a year already—he wouldn't come back. He would've forgotten someone as irrelevant as him by now.

Right?

But then there were footsteps—the drag of heavy boots against the rocky tarmac. Jongin stiffened again. It wasn't him. It couldn't be. Had he not been hallucinating? Had he really returned? And he'd returned for Jongin. Came right back for him. The footsteps grew closer, and Jongin's throat tightened. The scream he was about to let out caught in the web formed in his throat right as a hand grabbed his shoulder and threw him into the wall.

The wind was knocked out of him and he gasped, crumbling to the ground and holding his shoulder where it had collided hard with the wall. A pair of large black boots were in his line of vision, and it was almost like a sense of deja vu. 

"Fancy seeing you here again." Jongin wanted to laugh. As if they hadn't gone out of their way to sought him out. The tallest loanshark, once again, had a cigarette between his lips, but this time, it was lit. 

Cigarettes always reminded Jongin of _him_. The cigarette between his lips brought back a familiar image in Jongin's head—an image of _him_ grinding the cigarette against the ashtray and then dumping it next to the pile of other cigarette butts. He'd puff out smoke into his face just to see Jongin wheeze and glare at him before laughing and calling him _darling_. Jongin willed himself to breathe. He didn't want to remember _him_. 

Choosing to avoid eye contact, Jongin instead glared at the ground, wincing as he tried to roll his aching shoulder out. The guy bent down, leaning in so close to Jongin's face that he could almost taste the stale and acrid cigarette on his tongue. He puffed out smoke into his face, and Jongin wheezed as it filled his senses and burned his nostrils. 

The tallest one reached up and thumbed at the bruise under Jongin's eye. "This still hasn't healed yet. How unfortunate."

Jongin flinched and turned away. "Don't touch me."

There was a beat of silence before he heard laughter, and more smoke was blown into his face. "That's so cute. Sweetheart, do you know how long you kept us waiting? We're expecting the money soon."

"I told you I'd get it to you if you just waited."

Jongin heard the clean whistle of a dagger being unsheathed from his belt before he saw it, and then there was a hand on his burning shoulder, pressing him against the wall. He hissed through his teeth as the ache sizzled and licked up his shoulder down his back and arm. The polished surface of the dagger came within his view before it kissed the skin of his throat. The guy leaned in real close to Jongin's ear, his cigarette-coated breath grazing his face, and Jongin held his breath.

"You do know that we're not patient, don't you, darling? You've made us wait too long for the money. We've shown you the consequences if you continue to leave us hanging, right?" For further emphasis, he pressed the dagger harder against Jongin's neck, the sharp edge piercing the first layers of skin. Jongin screwed his eyes shut. His six senses closed off, and he barely felt the sting of the dagger against his throat. His heart pounded erratically in his ribcage and his fingers curled into the skin of his palms. 

He didn't realize he had been quivering out of fear until he heard more laughter and one of them yelled, "Look at the poor thing! He's scared."

If it was possible, Jongin started panicking even more. His fingers trembled and he bit his lip to suppress a whimper. Were they going to kill him? What if he just tried convincing them to wait another week? But they'd already waited a week. There was nothing he could do. No matter what he said or how he tried to convince them, he didn't have the money to repay them. He barely had anything to keep himself going; where would he find thousands of dollars? He had no option, and now they were going to kill him. 

Jongin regretted his next action.

Through his panic, he shoved the guy in front of him, causing him to lose balance and fall over, the dagger falling out of his hand and clattering to the tarmac. He paused for a second, as if it was taking him a while to process what had just happened. Then, his eyes flickered with rage and his hand connected with Jongin's cheek. This time, the whimper he had tried so hard to suppress bubbled up, and he cradled his stinging cheek, tears beginning to prick his eyelids. 

The streets were quiet, not a single rustle of the winds in the trees or the faintly audible sound of a car's engine starting. There was no one here. No one who could get him out of this.

A hand twisted in Jongin's hair, and his head was being pulled up, his teary eyes meeting ones that burned with fury. He began trembling harder, pursing his lips tightly. 

Getting into fights was normal for him. A little rough treatment never hurt him. So why was he so weak now? Why couldn't he fight back? What had happened to him? Down to his very core, he couldn't stop shaking.

"Listening, fucking bitch. We asked nicely the first time. My patience is wearing thin and I have no time to play your games. Where's the fucking money?"

The guy with the nasty scar on his face spoke up. "He's not too bad good-looking. What if we sold him?"

Jongin's blood ran cold and he stiffened. He knew they could smell the fear wafting off of him like tendrils out of a steaming soup. It ensued another huff of laughter.

The tallest one spat the remainder of the cigarette out of his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows. He hummed. "You're right. He's still pretty young. Selling him would bring us great money. Just a little trim of his hair and a smidge of makeup and he'd look quite pretty. I'm sure there'd be people who would buy him for a lot of money."

"W-What are you talking about?" Jongin mumbled. 

"I know many people who would be willing to buy you. You're quite tall, and thin. You'd make a lovely gift."

Jongin let out another whimper and tried to curl in on himself as he gasped out a short breath. _You'd make a lovely gift_. 

_No_. Jongin didn't want that. He didn't want to be turned into someone's slave, or their whore. He envisioned someone forcing him to do labour work—someone worse than his father who whipped him at any given moment. Someone who would lock him in the house and would never let him leave. And he envisioned more bruises and blood and...

Another version of _him_. 

He let out another gasp as he remembered. Remembered the fingers digging into his thigh. Remembered those kind eyes he had once trusted turn into something unrecognizable. Remembered a hand curling around his throat. And they pressed down, harder and harder, tighter and tighter, until he couldn't even wheeze. Until there was no room for him to inhale anymore and he was gaping and pleading with his tear-glazed eyes to be spared.

Suddenly, there was a distant shout and a siren, and he heard colourful curses leave the mouths of the gang as all of them stood up straighter. The tallest one picked up his dagger and tucked it back into his pocket before all of them were turning and running. He heard more shouting.

His head spun and the pounding ache of his shoulder slowly returned. He swayed gently in his spot where he was sitting before his body grew lax and he dipped forward. His screwed his eyes shut, anticipating the hard crash of his body against the rocky ground, but instead he fell into something soft. Arms held his sore shoulders, squeezing a little too tightly in order to hold him up, and through his daze, Jongin whined his protest. He first saw the white collared shirt that belonged to the uniform of his school. Then he blinked up, and there he was. 

He almost believed he was hallucinating again, but Kyungsoo was right there. Time seemed to tick in slow motion. Kyungsoo's face crumbled in concern and his lips moved, but Jongin couldn't hear anything.

But it didn't matter because Kyungsoo was right here.

Red and blue flashed in Jongin's peripheral vision, and someone stood behind Kyungsoo, their lips also moving.

It was like a dream. He felt his lips twitch slightly into a smile before he sagged against Kyungsoo's chest. If this was really a dream, he never wanted to wake up. But his eyelids drooped, and no matter how much he tried to force them open, they stayed closed. But he got to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo again, even if it wasn't real.

Just as he felt himself slip, he heard Kyungsoo's voice say, "It's okay, officer. I'll take him home." Jongin wanted to whine again. He wanted to yell out his disapproval, but then he drifted off. 

_Please don't take me back there. Anywhere but there._

~~~

The first thing Jongin noted when he slowly came to was that this bed was not his. It was soft and comfortable, and he couldn't pinpoint why it felt so familiar. His eyes slowly peeled open, and he realized why.

The warm orange and yellow and red blend of the sunset streamed in through the windows, the curtains pushed back. He saw the desk that was pushed into the corner, and the ceiling light, and he recognized the place almost immediately.

He shot up, but regretted it when a piercing pain shot through his skull, as if someone was drilling a nail into his head. He groaned. The bed beneath him was large, heavy white sheets thrown over him. 

He never thought he'd be back in Kyungsoo's bed.

The door creaked open, and his head shot in its general direction when Kyungsoo stepped in with a tray of fruits and a bowl of soup. His eyes grew wide after spotting Jongin awake, and he quickly rushed over, ditching the tray on the nightstand. 

So Jongin hadn't been dreaming. It was really him, in all his flesh and glory. He felt his spine tingle and he held his breath in anticipation as Kyungsoo approached the side of the bed. 

The bed dipped slightly under Kyungsoo's weight. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

Jongin's mind shut down for a moment, and for a few seconds, he wasn't able to muster up the strength to form a proper sentence. Once again, he was reminded that he was sitting in Kyungsoo's apartment, in his bedroom, in his _bed_, and was surrounded by his warm and comforting sandalwood scent. 

"I'm okay," he managed to squeeze out through his tightening throat. But it wasn't a tightening that he usually felt; it was paired with the coiling and uncoiling of his heart that sent his nerves vibrating—in a good way. Better-than-good way.

Though, Kyungsoo didn't seem convinced. He reached up and gently ran his hand across Jongin's throat, and the latter let out an embarrassing and inaudible squeak. That was when he noticed that there was a bandaid on his throat.

Seeing his confused look, Kyungsoo said, "He cut you a little. I had to disinfect it and then bandaid it to stop the bleeding."

Oh right. The loansharks. Jongin had forgotten about them for a moment.

He remembered the faint sirens and the flash of red and blue before his vision had been overcome by the white of Kyungsoo's shirt and then the pitch black of sleep. "What happened back there...?"

"A student saw what was happening and reported it to the police. I just happened to be in the area and overheard. I tried to go over there and stop them, but by then, the police officers had shown up and they fled. And then you collapsed, and I thought..."

Kyungsoo's face fell. When Jongin's body had crashed into his, he had feared the worst. There was that moment when Jongin had looked up and they locked eyes, and Kyungsoo's heart had completely stopped. He'd looked so distant, totally out of it, and he had feared he'd lost him. 

Seeing the crestfallen expression on Kyungsoo's face, Jongin felt his heart squeeze. Hesitantly, he patted Kyungsoo's hand. "I'm okay now."

"Yeah, I know. I know." The repetition was more to himself than Jongin. 

"Then what's going to happen to them now?"

"The police are tracking them down. You don't have to worry about paying them back. What they were doing was illegal, anyway. You can just testify against them in court and it'll be over with."

Jongin hummed. He glanced down at the white sheets and took great interest in their creases to keep from making eye contact with Kyungsoo. He could feel his eyes boring into him with worry, and Jongin squirmed under his gaze.

Before he could curl back into himself, Jongin blurted out, "Thank you."

There was no response, and Jongin slowly looked up to see Kyungsoo's gaze avert to the wall before he reached over to the bowl of soup and said, "Here, you should eat."

At the speed of light, Jongin's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, and he shakily accepted the bowl. He stared down into the soup with rice and vegetables, and though it looked delicious, he felt sick to his stomach. Had he just been rejected? Was this Kyungsoo's way of telling him that he'd fucked up big time? He was only being nice, Jongin concluded. He had blacked out, so Kyungsoo took him in and treated the mild wound on his neck, and after he finished eating, he would kick him out and tell him that he never wanted to see him again. In all honesty, it was what Jongin deserved.

Because he was always like that.

Because he was good at pushing people away, and when they all kicked him aside and gave him the cold shoulder, Jongin had no one else to blame but himself.

He didn't feel the tear in his eyes until it slid halfway down his cheek, but he wasn't quick enough to catch it before Kyungsoo. Because Kyungsoo always caught it first.

Brushing it with his thumb, Kyungsoo asked, "Jongin, what's wrong? Are you hurting anywhere?"

And despite the harsh blow of the rejection, Jongin couldn't stamp down the fuzzy feeling in his chest again. He still couldn't tell what it was, but he just felt so warm, and he knew it was so pathetic—_he_ was pathetic—but he just felt so safe with Kyungsoo. Like everything was okay whenever he showed up. He wanted to lean into the hand that still laid on his cheek, but he refrained himself. He was in no position to freely do so.

With great reluctance, he turned away instead and wiped at his own cheek with his free hand that wasn't holding the bowl. "I'm okay." This was the third time he said it, but this time, it didn't feel right, and it showed in the way his voice cracked at the end.

He thought about the dream he had about Kyungsoo a few days ago. Everything with Kyungsoo had felt okay, and they were both happy. But when he failed to apologize to him even in his dream, Kyungsoo had walked away. 

Worried, Kyungsoo lightly tapped Jongin's shoulder. "Jongin? Are you sure you're okay? What's wrong?"

It was now or never. He wasn't going to push Kyungsoo away again and lose this opportunity. Clenching the bowl in his hand, he said, "I'm sorry."

Yet again, there was no response, and Jongin was ready to crawl under the covers and really start crying, until Kyungsoo finally answered. "For what?"

Jongin mentally counted the thumps of his heart. "For everything. I said some things last week that I didn't mean."

Kyungsoo smiled tightly. "It's alright, I get it. I think I should be the one to apologize. I don't know what's going on with you, and I can't even begin to fathom what you might be going through. It was a bit selfish of me to force myself into your life so quickly. I was probably burdening you, and I still feel guilty for pushing you into a corner like that. After this, I'll stop bothering you—"

"No!" The soup almost sloshed out of the bowl, and Jongin clutched it to his chest. "T-That wasn't...what I meant. I meant I didn't mean to call you a burden."

"Jongin, you don't have to act like you trust me. I completely understand—"

"But I do trust you. I just..." _I don't trust myself._ "I guess I was just...scared." _I was scared I'd turn you into him. _

The hands clutching the bowl were trembling, and Kyungsoo placed his hands over Jongin's to stop their shaking. He couldn't help the blooming grin on his face. "So, you're not pushing me away?"

Jongin shook his head, suddenly feeling bashful, but he felt lighter now.

As for Kyungsoo, he couldn't control the shit-eating grin on his face and how his heart soared. Composing himself, he said, "Eat your soup. It's going to get cold."

This time, Jongin obeyed without crying. Having Kyungsoo's cooking again was like breathing fresh air after being cooped up in his room for so long. 

The room fell silent again, save for Jongin's slurping on the soup, which he tried to keep down. After watching him for a bit, Kyungsoo asked, "Do you wanna watch a movie after you're done eating? I don't really have homework, so..."

Jongin felt his lips twitch. "Okay."

~~~

The sun had gone down, not a single living person in sight on the streets.

Except for one.

He stepped out from behind the tree, staring up at the apartment building. His auburn hair blew in the ratting wind, his jacket rustling. He pulled out the lit cigarette between his lips and puffed out smoke before stuffing it back in his mouth. 

He'd watched the shorter boy with the short black hair carry Jongin's unconscious body into the building. 

He smirked. Then he laughed. He tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and stamped it out with his foot.

So Jongin had a boyfriend now.

Well this was interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time updating in only a week in so long. It reminds me of when I used to update three times a week. The good ol' days. Anyway, I hope to get more updates in during the next three weeks because my school is closed for three weeks due to the virus. Everyone, make sure to wash your hands and stay safe! Love y'all <3


	18. Chapter 17

The movie Kyungsoo had chosen was The Little Mermaid. He asked over and over if it was okay or if Jongin wanted to change it, but the latter continued to assure him that it was okay. Besides, Jongin never really got the chance to watch any movies growing up. The ones he had watched—he didn't remember. The last time he had watched a movie was last year, and it hadn't been good. That was the first time he had watched a horror movie, and he promised himself that it would be his last.

It was halfway through the movie when Kyungsoo heard sniffling, and when he turned his head, Jongin had his head bowed as he silently weeped into his sleeve. The day had been a struggle for him, and Kyungsoo knew that, so instead of commenting on it, he had scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Jongin's shoulder to pull him closer to him. The first time Jongin had cried before him, Kyungsoo had done the same, except this time, Jongin naturally relaxed in his hold, letting himself go as he cried harder. All thoughts of being embarrassed flew out the window. 

Even when his tears reduced to sniffles, Kyungsoo still kept his arm wrapped around his shoulder, running a comforting hand up and down his back to reassure him that nothing would happen to him—otherwise Kyungsoo wouldn't sit idly by. It'd been so long since someone had comforted him like this, or even looked at him so gently—before Kyungsoo. 

The movie continued droning on in the background, neither Kyungsoo nor Jongin paying it any mind. Just when Jongin was sure he'd fall asleep right there against Kyungsoo's chest, a phone rang from Kyungsoo's bedroom. Jongin almost let out a shameful whine in protest, but Kyungsoo just patted his shoulder and stood up. Left feeling cold on the couch, Jongin pulled his legs into his chest and trained his eyes back on the movie. Something about Ariel jumping into the sea to stop someone's wedding. Jongin felt a little bad that he hadn't actually paid attention to the movie. Maybe next time.

From the other room, muffled murmurs were carried through into the living room. Jongin tried to strain his ear to hear something, but he couldn't pick up any of the words. And then he couldn't hear anything at all, and Kyungsoo walked back out into the living room, phone in hand. Jongin turned his head, staring expectantly. 

"The police station called," Kyungsoo said. "They caught the loan sharks."

~~~

Once the sun rose, Kyungsoo was already up. Tossing his pyjamas, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie. After making his bed and washing his face, he made his way to the kitchen before stopping by the living room. Laying on the couch, Jongin continued to snooze, the thick blanket Kyungsoo had thrown over him overnight having slipped down his shoulders. His uniform was all crumpled after his tossing and turning, but he looked at peace. There were no creases between his brows or any noises of discomfort. His face was relaxed and his right cheek bunched up from where it was squished against the pillow under his head.

Kyungsoo couldn't help but smile. He had been wary about letting Jongin leave at such a late hour, so he'd managed, yet again, to convince him to stay over. Not because he just wanted to treasure Jongin's company. Actually, he'd hoped that Jongin would sleep in his bed again—the thought of making Jongin sleep on the couch didn't sit well with him—but the latter had fallen asleep on the couch just as they had started their second movie, and Kyungsoo hadn't moved him in fear of ruining his sleep.

There was a faint noise from the couch, and Kyungsoo turned to see Jongin squirm a little and then settle back down. The blanket had now slipped down to his waist. The sight tugged at Kyungsoo's heartstrings, and he had the dire urge to pull the blanket back up. So he tiptoed into the living room, careful not to make a peep and he crouched down until he was eye level with Jongin's forehead. He reached the corners of the blanket and slowly tugged them up until they were covering Jongin's shoulders. His fingers brushed against Jongin's cheek, and he froze as he tried to take in how close their faces were. From here, he could see the faded acne scars on his face, the details and outlines of his curvy nose and chapped lips. He could even count his eyelashes. He wondered if it'd be okay if he just gently laid his hand on his cheek—

When his gaze fell, he was met with the sight of Jongin's eyes wide open. His yelp got caught in his throat and he fell back on his shins as he sat on the floor, his mouth gaping. Jongin laid frozen, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to process what he just woke up to.

"U-Uh, I just was t-trying to pull the blanket over you. I thought you'd be cold..." Kyungsoo trailed off and instead cleared his throat, looking away. 

Jongin dumbly blinked. When he'd woken up, the last thing he had expected was to find his face only two inches away from Kyungsoo's. He shot up, and looked down at the blanket that had slipped down again. "Uh, thanks...I guess."

There was an awfully long pregnant pause before Kyungsoo was shooting up and he said, "Should I get started on breakfast?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

As Kyungsoo got their breakfast together, Jongin washed up and smoothened out his clothes. Staying in the same clothes for a second day in a row wasn't ideal, but he didn't have an extra change of clothing. Combing his bangs out of his eyes, he looked at the bruise on his cheek. Thankfully, it was healing and had now settled into a sickly yellowish colour. It wasn't pleasant to look at, but at least it meant it was getting better. But he hated that Kyungsoo could see it. It was humiliating. Kyungsoo was handsome with perfect facial features while he had hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, and everything opposite of Kyungsoo. His bangs couldn't even cover his cheeks. Maybe he had to grow out his hair again. If he did, it'd cover his face more and his eyes and—

"Jongin? What's taking you so long?" There were a couple of knocks on the door, and Jongin startled where he was standing before ruffling his hair so it fell in front of his eyes. "Breakfast is ready." He heard Kyungsoo's footsteps fade away and he breathed out. 

In the kitchen, Kyungsoo was setting up the table as Jongin took a seat at one of the chairs. The latter fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves, feeling uneasy as he noted how Kyungsoo had changed into nice clothes and he was still wearing his uniform. That was the first thing he noticed. The second thing he noticed was that Kyungsoo's clothes weren't the school uniform.

"Why aren't you in uniform?" Jongin asked.

Kyungsoo placed down the plate of leftover spring rolls from the night before. "Oh, we're not going to school, remember? We're going to the police station." 

When the officers called the night before, they'd informed them that the loan sharks had been caught. Without enough evidence, they could only keep them locked up for forty-eight hours. They'd said that they already took the witness to the station to interrogate them shortly after they'd arrived. Though, Jongin had collapsed and he couldn't be questioned in such a state. So Jongin had to take a trip to the police station for his interrogation.

Only, "I thought I was going alone."

Smiling, Kyungsoo picked at a spring roll. "I've decided to tag along."

"But what about school?"

"Missing one day of school won't kill me. Besides, I'm worried about you. I'm not sure if it's okay to leave you alone anymore. I'll just tag along so that you have company. There's no need to be nervous."

Jongin wanted to argue—he wasn't a child and he could go to the station alone–but having company _did_ sound nice. In all honesty, being interrogated didn't sit well with him. He'd been interrogated once the year before. It hadn't been a pleasant time for him, most likely because he was still traumatized and unable to form a coherent thought or freely express himself. To say the least, he didn't have good memories about being interrogated.

After processing it, he agreed, and the smile Kyungsoo gifted him with was worth it. 

As the time neared eleven in the morning, Kyungsoo and Jongin hopped out of the former's car and stood in front of the police station. There were a couple of officers standing by the entrance that they respectfully greeted as they entered. There were the usual stares, and Jongin shouldn't have been fazed, but he still shook his head to hide his eyes more and traced his shoelaces with his eyes. Noticing this, Kyungsoo held Jongin's hand and squeezed gently before letting it drop back down. 

The usual fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach helped to alleviate the nervous tingles that were slithering down his spine. The corner of his lips twitched and he slowly inhaled as they walked into the room with many other officers and detectives.

Stacks of cases took up the majority of the space on the long desks and papers were scattered about. Some officers tapped away on their computers as they questioned a group of minors that were brought in. Jongin couldn't really hear what they were brought in for, but it didn't look good. 

Kyungsoo tapped Jongin's shoulder. "Oh, there he is." The detective he pointed to had his head buried in a thick stack of papers, skimming back and forth between the pages, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had black rectangular framed glasses and looked to be in his early forties. "Detective Jung!" Kyungsoo called, and the detective's head snapped up.

Jongin froze, stupefied. 

Detective Jung stood in front of them, around the same height as Kyungsoo. "Oh, Kyungsoo. I'm sorry for calling you guys in on a school day. I hope you didn't mind." His gaze fell on Jongin, and Detective Jung's smile fell before he tugged it back on with a sympathetic look. "Jongin, do you remember me?"

Of course Jongin remembered him. He recognized him right off the bat. This was the same detective from a year ago, when he was in eleventh grade. The very detective who had interrogated him in his hospital room. Jongin hadn't even been in his right mind during that period of time, yet he couldn't forget this man's face.

Instead of answering verbally, Jongin just nodded. Confused, Kyungsoo glanced at him, seemingly asking for an explanation as to how they knew each other.

Detective Jung said, "I'm sorry this is happening to you again. I hope you're feeling okay. About Park J—"

"Don't talk about it, detective. Please." He couldn't bear to hear that name again. Every time that name crossed his mind, his knees would buckle and he'd begin hyperventilating. Whenever that happened, he'd be a mess. He didn't wish for Kyungsoo to see that side of him. Kyungsoo had seen him bruised and beaten, but that was just the bad side. He hadn't seen the ugly yet.

Detective Jung looked stunned before he nodded in understanding. "Anyways, I prepared an interrogation room for you two. It won't take much time." He led them down a hall away from the chaotic room with other detectives and officers and opened the door of a room before walking in.

Outside the room, Jongin hesitated in his steps. He couldn't bring himself to step inside, and Kyungsoo patted his shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you nervous?"

"I know this is the right thing to do, but would they press charges against my dad and I, too? What would I do if they say it's my fault, too?" 

"They won't. The loansharks took advantage of you. That's on them, not you. They were doing illegal work, anyway. There was no way you could've backed out of it." 

Just like earlier, Kyungsoo tightly grasped Jongin's hand in his and squeezed, this time running a soothing thumb over the back of his hand and letting it linger there before pulling his hand away. The palm of Jongin's hand burned in a pleasant way. 

Stepping aside, Kyungsoo let him walk in first before closing the door behind them.

~~~

It was past one in the afternoon when the interrogation ended, and Jongin could finally breathe again. Kyungsoo offered to eat lunch with him, but their breakfast still sat in the pit of Jongin's stomach, keeping him full, so he had declined with the excuse that he had food at home, much to Kyungsoo's displeasure. 

When Kyungsoo offered to drive him home, though, Jongin found it rude not to accept after he had denied him once. Besides, he had no other way of getting home, unless he was up for walking, and he had no bus money.

Like before, Jongin asked for Kyungsoo to park in the parking lot of the corner store—as far away from his house as he could keep him. Undoing his seatbelt, Jongin said, "Thank you for driving me again."

"You sure you don't want me to walk you back to your place?"

Jongin shook his head, shooting the idea down immediately. He still had yet to recover from the first time Kyungsoo had walked him to his place and witnessed with his own eyes the environment and chaos Jongin had to live amongst. Just thinking about it still had Jongin's skin prickling in humiliation.

Just then, Jongin spotted something from the corner of his eye. He stiffened by the car door, fingers curling into the metal. His breath hitched and his blood ran cold in his veins. He couldn't turn his head—couldn't bring himself to no matter how much he tried—but when he did, there was nothing there. 

"Jongin, are you okay?" Kyungsoo asked from within the car.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jongin peered over to where he'd thought he saw the figure. He swore he had clearly seen the mat of auburn hair from his peripheral vision, but there wasn't a single trace of him anywhere. Was he seeing things again? Had he gone crazy?

In the end, he shook his head and bid Kyungsoo a farewell before shutting the car door. He walked down the narrow alley. An empty Pepsi can laid around, and Jongin had half the mind to kick it, so he did, sending it flying near the trash can. There was no pair of shoes sitting by the front door, so he assumed his father hadn't returned yet. The large collection of empty alcohol bottles on the table had grown overnight with additional soju bottles. After spending a night at Kyungsoo's tidy apartment, he almost didn't recognize his own house's messy atmosphere. Something tugged at him to do something about the chaos on the table, but Jongin dismissed the idea. 

His father would more or less kill him if he touched his alcohol. 

Jongin's mattress dipped when he dropped on it. He whipped out his phone to see a message from Kyungsoo.

_hope you got home safe :)_

Again, Jongin felt the corners of his lips twitch.

**From: Jongin**

_I did. Thank you._

**From: Kyungsoo**

_np :)) hope to see you tmrw. _

_sleep well_

Jongin began tapping out a response when his phone pinged with a notification from someone else. He frowned. He'd gotten a new number and phone the year before and he'd never given out his new number to anyone. The only person who had his new number was Kyungsoo. It was a phone number he didn't recognize.

But when he opened the message, his finger froze. The slight fear he had felt when he believed he saw the silhouette by Kyungsoo's car returned, but this time tenfold. His heart began galloping and his skin tingled and itched. Shiver upon shiver ran up his spine and neck and he felt sweat gather on his forehead. He felt his chest tighten, and he could feel the hands curl around his throat, restricting his airway. His breakfast began to bubble like acid in his stomach and make its way up his throat. 

He screamed and threw his phone.

**From: 010-7331-5575**

_i miss you, darling_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone's staying safe right now <3


	19. Chapter 18

**From: 010-7331-5575**

_I know you read this_

_answer me, darling_

_don't you miss me 2_

~~~

Jongin couldn't sleep well.

He'd had that nightmare again. This time, though, it was too vivid, as if he were reliving the moment. The door on the basement floor creaked open, revealing a mat of auburn hair, a lit cigarette held between pale, chapped lips. And once he turned his head, his facial features were brought back to life in Jongin's mind. 

He remembered those lips. Those lips that forced themselves on him. The ones that curled into a menacing smile as he watched Jongin writhe in pain and terror. And those eyes that were dilated and bleary from smoking marijuana and any other drug he could get his hands on glaring down at him. 

When the floor opened up and swallowed Jongin whole, the hands naturally came back, reaching for his throat and squeezing until his eyes glazed over with tears. This time, though, those hands were attached to a body, and he could finally put a face to his perpetrator. 

The dreams had stayed with him, clinging onto him like gum on the bottom of his shoe, only it was never forgettable. Instead, it would dangle in front of his eyes, seemingly mocking him. But a year was a long time. It was enough time for him to forget everything and move on. And after Kyungsoo had entered his life, he was slowly convincing himself that he was getting better.

Until now.

He'd startled awake from his dream, trembling down to his bones with cold sweat rolling down his back. It'd been a while since he last had a panic attack, but right that moment, he was whipping out the extra paper bags he had in his drawer and heaving into them. 

In class four hours later, his knee was restlessly bobbing up and down, his teeth jittering as he tried to, for once, focus on the lesson going on. He needed even the smallest thing to distract him. But he could barely focus—not when his phone was sitting on the corner of his desk, so he shoved it into his bag. But it was still no use. 

Ms. Lee didn't seem to catch sight of his anxious glances directed towards his bag, but Kyungsoo did. Concerned, he leaned over and tapped the edge of Jongin's desk, startling the latter more than he already was. "Hey, is everything okay? Why are you shaking so much?" Kyungsoo whispered. 

Jongin didn't answer. If he just willed himself to _forget_, then it'd be okay. He wasn't looking for Kyungsoo to involve himself in his mess. Not again, not ever. He tried to hide how much he was trembling, but he couldn't. He could still imagine how much _he_ was probably messaging him, asking if Jongin missed him, too, calling him his _darling—_like he used to. 

In the end, Jongin replied with a curt, "I'm fine," in order to somewhat reassure Kyungsoo and not leave him hanging. Kyungsoo didn't seem convinced—it was like he could always see through Jongin's lies–but he didn't question it, for which Jongin was very thankful for.

Halfway through Biology, Jongin couldn't sit still anymore. He slung his bag over his shoulder and sped out of the classroom, leaving his teacher's calls behind him as he darted into the closest men's washroom and locked himself in a stall. Just like he'd suspected, he had several new messages along with twenty missed calls. 

All from the same number.

**From: 010-7331-5575**

_come back to me_

_stop ignoring me_

_you know what happens when you ignore me, right_

_did you get a new boyfriend_

Jongin was shaking as he read them all, before pausing at the last message. Had he seen him with Kyungsoo? Had he been following him, watching his every move? Memories of the year prior whizzed before his eyelids like a slideshow, and it took every muscle in his body to keep his scream at bay. 

This couldn't be happening to him again. He'd disappeared that day. No one could find him and Jongin believed that it was over and he was free. So why was he back? 

He didn't want to open the messages, but he couldn't stand seeing the number flash on his phone screen, so he deleted the messages and blocked the number. Once he did, he felt like he could breathe a bit more, but his skin still crawled. His heart was still lodged in his throat and he felt jittery, like he was being watched.

~~~

It felt like hours of shaking and subtly thrown glances around the school property and the hallways before it was finally lunch. The cafeteria began to fill itself to the brim with students, and Jongin made his way to his usual spot outside. 

The wind nipped at his arms and face, and he was actually glad that he thought to bring Kyungsoo's jacket with him. He whipped it out of his bag and wrapped it around his shoulders, not really wearing it. When he'd startled awake that morning and couldn't go back to sleep, his first thought was to wrap himself in Kyungsoo's jacket and curl up into a ball. It smelt very faintly of him, like vanilla and sandalwood were gently cloaking him. At the time of his despair, this was the only thing he'd found comfort in. Thinking about it right now made him blush, but at that time, he hadn't really been in his right mind to grow embarrassed that he was wearing his classmate's jacket and using it as a source of warmth and relief.

Maybe it was the nipping winds as they neared winter that blocked his nose, because Jongin could barely pick up on the trace of the sandalwood scent on the jacket. Or maybe it was because he hadn't returned it to the owner in so long. It had most definitely been over a month now. His scent was bound to wear off. He felt disheartened. But it wasn't like he could brazenly tell Kyungsoo to take it back because he wished the jacket smelt of him.

And speak of the devil and it shall appear. There was a light tap on his shoulder, and when Jongin whirled around, Kyungsoo was flashing him his gummy smile and taking a seat next to him. 

He noticed the jacket immediately. "Is this my jacket?" The grin on his face was prideful but also slightly uncertain and stunned, like he hadn't actually thought Jongin would wear his jacket again. 

"Y-Yeah." Jongin looked away. He made an attempt to pull the jacket off his shoulders to prevent himself from enduring any more embarrassment, but a hand to his shoulder stopped him.

"Don't. Keep it on. It's cold out."

Sitting there, bundled up in Kyungsoo's jacket, Jongin belatedly realized that the former wasn't wearing anything save for his uniform. He was completely vulnerable to the cold, and Jongin was prickling with goosebumps under the jacket just from looking at how lightly dressed he was, but Kyungsoo didn't seem fazed. At least, nothing seemed to show on his face.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring—he must've been staring for a while—because Kyungsoo turned to him and cocked his head. "Is there something on my face?" The question flew over Jongin's head at first, but when he finally caught it, he startled and looked away. He wished he were wearing a hoodie because he could feel his face grow warmer. 

Over them fell the comfortable silence that always seemed to cloak them, until his stomach grumbled. Kyungsoo laughed. "Are you hungry? We can go get something to eat."

Even if Jongin denied it, Kyungsoo already knew. His stomach grumbled again, as if warning him not to turn Kyungsoo down. In the end, Jongin agreed. "Just, can we not go to the cafeteria?"

"Hm, why? Do you not like their food?"

It wasn't that. Jongin hated crowded places. They were loud, and filled to the brim, and messy. And crowded places came with a ton of people, which meant double the pairs of eyes. Everyone would stare at him, he was sure of it. They'd all glare at him, or talk behind their hands—wondering what the school's weirdo was doing in their space. 

Kyungsoo sensed something in his silence, because he just smiled. "It's fine. I'll bring you something to eat." 

And once again, Jongin's chest felt fuzzy, and his heart itched. There were no more mosquitoes as the temperature had dropped and it was only a matter of time before winter settled in, but he felt really itchy. And it wasn't going away no matter how much he scratched at his chest. It didn't feel wrong, but he wasn't sure what was causing it, or why he felt like his heart would leap out of his chest. 

He placed a careful hand over his heart, and tried to steady his breathing. It seemed to be working, so he continued.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he whirled around to see that Kyungsoo had returned with two trays full of rice and soup and meat. He sat down. "I'm not sure if we're allowed to eat outside, but it didn't seem like you were up for sitting in the cafeteria."

Aaaand there went Jongin's efforts in trying to tame his heart, because now it was beating like crazy. 

~~~

"You're going to watch us practice for the last time, right?"

"Sure. I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do with my time. Ends at 5, doesn't it?"

Taeyong nodded, tipping his head back to take a sip of his water. 

The field was pretty empty, save for the few people who had already changed into their football gear; the rest of the team were, Kyungsoo assumed, probably still in the change rooms. He was heading there with Taeyong a bit later in order to pick up Taeyong's marked test from his last period teacher. Jungwoo had already headed out before them, but Kyungsoo had insisted on staying back. It wouldn't be any use, anyway, if he just sat on the bleachers and waited for Jungwoo to finish changing. 

It was the last practice before the season ended and they would have to pack up for the winter. Taeyong and Jungwoo were pretty bummed out about it, no matter how much Kyungsoo tried to tell them that they'd get right back into it before they knew it. Time would fly fast, he reassured them, though they didn't really seem to be listening. Then again, it wasn't like they ever really listened when they had football on their minds.

Just then, Kyungsoo spotted Jongin heading to the parking lot behind the school._ He must be heading home now_, he thought. He shouldn't be surprised—Jongin always went home later than other students. How fast would he have to run in order to catch up to him?

"After our practice, let's go get something to eat. What should we get? Let me think. Tteokbokki, sundae, japchae, bulgogi, samgyeopsal. Ah, I'm starting to drool just thinking about it. I hope practice flies by faster."

"Hey, I gotta go." Kyungsoo grabbed the strap of his bag tighter and dashed off.

"Wait, aren't you staying to watch?!"

"Sorry, something came up!" Kyungsoo shouted before he raced to the back of the school to catch up with Jongin.

When he saw Jongin's fleeting form, he slowed and breathed in to calm his racing heart. He combed a hand through his hair to tame it against the wind before walking up to tap Jongin on the shoulder.

When Jongin turned, Kyungsoo grinned. "Jongin, hey."

Jongin's face relaxed, before his eyebrows immediately shot up and he leaned closer. "Are you okay? You're sweating a lot."

Cursing himself, Kyungsoo tried to wipe off the sweat on his forehead from running. "It's nothing."

"Did you run here?"

"What, no. Of course not. What makes you say that?"

"You're panting."

"A-Am I? It's just really hot out," Kyungsoo tried to lie through his teeth. Maybe he should've taken some more time to calm himself before zooming over. 

It didn't seem hot out—Jongin was still freezing—but if Kyungsoo thought it was hot out, then he wasn't really one to question him. "Did you need something?" Jongin asked.

"What?" Kyungsoo froze. He hadn't actually planned anything to say when he ran over. He just kind of...ran. But Taeyong did put an idea into his head. "Oh, I wanted to ask if you wanted to eat with me?"

For a second, Jongin was worried his excitement would flicker on his face. It'd been a long time since he'd last eaten out with someone, and it wasn't like he ever went out to treat himself to a nice meal. He really hoped Kyungsoo didn't pick up on the slight tremor in his voice from joy when he said, "What should we eat?"

"Hm, I'm not sure." Then the list that Taeyong had made came to mind. "We could eat things like tteokbokki, sundae, japchae, bulgogi, samgyeopsal. I don't know what you like, so you choose."

In the end, Jongin agreed to having samgyeopsal. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised when Kyungsoo nonchalantly told him to get into his car—they _were_ going out to eat, and how else would they get there? He just didn't think he would get used to going places with Kyungsoo. Jongin wasn't sure how he truly felt about Kyungsoo's car becoming such a familiar surrounding. 

Jongin was just beginning to strap himself into the seat of Kyungsoo's car when he saw a figure freeze in the corner of his eye. Out of curiosity, he looked up. Their eyes connected, and Jongin's breath hitched. His fingers itched and twitched. His stomach coiled, tight knots forming in the pit of his stomach and his brain turning foggy. He wanted to scream, alert Kyungsoo, or just close his eyes and hope that he was seeing things.

But he wasn't seeing things, because he was right there. Only a few meters away from Kyungsoo's car. Jongin watched as Park Jin Ho raised his phone to his ear, and then Jongin's phone went off in his pocket.

From afar, Jongin heard Kyungsoo's voice, but it was as if he'd been dunked underwater. He couldn't make out what Kyungsoo was saying.

And then Jin Ho was gone. As if Jongin had imagined him.

~~~

The bell rang, and students all packed their bags and raced out. Watching everyone's retreating backs, Jongin sighed and slumped into his seat. His second semester as a sophomore was probably his least favourite. He wasn't sure why the office thought it would be a smart idea to pile all his science-related classes in one semester and pile everything else up in the other semester. And right now, he just had to have his science-related classes. 

But the semester was slowing nearing its close, and soon summer would come, and so would his junior year of high school. He almost couldn't believe he was close to eleventh grade. Middle school had started feeling like a fever dream, and ninth grade was just a year of him cowering from the older kids.

Once Jongin was sure everyone had left, he slowly exited the class and made his way around the back of the school to pass the parking lot. He tried to keep his fingers crossed and prayed that they wouldn't be there, but heaven never seemed to be on his side. The moment he rounded the corner of the school to the back, he saw the whole group of seniors there, chatting and laughing while lighting their cigarettes. Jongin groaned. He hated having to walk past them, but this was the closest way to his house. For a second, he debated whether or not he should camp out in the library until they left, but then decided against it. He had homework to finish and needed to get on that. His Biology homework wasn't going to do itself. He could do his homework in the library, but he left his textbook at home. 

He closed his eyes and tried to continue moving along. Like a mantra, he prayed that they wouldn't see him and continue smoking whatever it was that they had moved onto smoking. And even if they did see him, he prayed that they'd just ignore him.

But luck isn't on his side today, it seemed. 

"Hey, kid!" one of them yelled.

Jongin squeezed his eyes tighter and sped up his steps_. Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep walking, just—_

He bumped into someone, and Jongin slowly peeled his eyes open and chanced a glance up, straight into the eyes of his senior, Park Jin Ho. His hair, as of that moment, was auburn, his natural hair colour. He was the type of student who dyed his hair once every two weeks, and it sat in a dry heap on his head, the roots crusty like straw. He never wore the school uniform and came in with his own clothes. Today, he was wearing a black sweater over black jeans with a jean jacket thrown over his shoulders. He was probably the most intimidating kid in the whole school, and students either wanted to be him or they feared him. There was no in between. And he was exactly the type of student Jongin hated associating himself with.

"Didn't you hear me?" Jin Ho scowled. "If your senior calls you, you should answer, you disrespectful bastard." He took an inhale of his cigarette, paused, and then blew the smoke in Jongin's face, grinning smugly when the latter coughed and sputtered.

"I-I'm just trying to get hom..." Jongin tried to say before his train of thought faded when Jin Ho took one step, two steps closer to him and leaned slightly forward. Jongin swallowed, heart thumping. From this distance, Jongin caught a whiff of the cigarette that he'd been smoking, and he wrinkled his nose.

Jin Ho seemed pleased, and he held his cigarette up to Jongin's face, offering it to him. "Want a smoke? You can try some if you want."

Again, Jongin wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Sorry, I don't smoke. I actually like my lungs." He didn't know where his sudden boldness came from, but the moment it faded, he tensed, waiting for a beating.

Instead, Jin Ho just laughed, waving off the dirty looks his friends were collectively wearing. "Ah, you're so cute. I like that."

"W-What?"

"See ya." Jin Ho winked and walked off, but not before patting Jongin on the butt. Jongin wasn't sure why his cheeks were flaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm really sorry I disappeared for literally a month without saying anything. It's just that my online classes started a three weeks ago and it's bee so hectic for me and I could barely keep up and I finally got time this weekend to finish writing this chapter. I'm just really sorry and I apologize in advance if it happens again. Also, just so you guys don't get confused, the last part is Jongin having a flashback to his sophomore year :) Okay love y'all


	20. Chapter 19

Jongin wasn't sure when he'd lost all focus, but when he finally came to, he was sitting at Kyungsoo's dining table with a cup of piping hot tea in front of him, steam curling off the edge of the cup in tendrils. He remembered a little bit, like Kyungsoo's distant voice calling out to him or the vague sight of his hand waving in front of Jongin's eyes, trying to gain his attention. 

He spent a year building up his walls. It was a year spent hiding, cowering, pushing everyone away and locking them all out. He'd been doing fine. He was getting by just fine on his own without anyone's help. So why was he currently shaking as he sat at Kyungsoo's dining table? Why were his insides churning and why did he taste bile on his tongue, as if he'd eaten something rotten? 

Everything that had happened the year prior had been tucked away into a secret box in the back of Jongin's mind where he hoped he'd never have to open it again. But seeing Jin Ho's face again was the trigger, and all those memories he had stored away came back. All those memories that he had locked away into the box came flooding back, dancing before his eyes, haunting him. 

Those memories only ever came back to him at night, when he was lying on his hard mattress, tossing and turning. That was the only time his walls would fall and he'd wake up trembling and sweating. That was the only time he'd struggle to breathe. They were supposed to be nightmares. For the past year, everything was just a nightmare, something that would play in his head when he was lulled to sleep. But now, he wasn't sleeping, and it wasn't nighttime, yet he was trembling and his chest tightened as he tried to catch his breath. 

If he'd been in his right mindset, he'd have noticed when Kyungsoo pulled up a chair next to him and pulled him into his chest, but he couldn't even form a coherent thought. So he just accepted it and leaned into Kyungsoo's embrace, the only provided comfort being Kyungsoo's sandalwood scent. 

He felt fingers carding through his hair and gently massaging his scalp, as if easing the tense muscles and willing them to relax. "That's it. Good boy. Just breathe in and out for me, okay?" Any other day, Jongin would've blushed at Kyungsoo's words, or probably hid, but right now, he didn't wish for anything else. 

Kyungsoo was confused. One moment, Jongin was perfectly fine and they were planning on going out to eat, and then out of nowhere, he began letting out little whimpers, like he had a scream caught in his throat that he couldn't release. His face went from bright to frighteningly pale and he began to tremble and sweat buckets. Kyungsoo had contemplated calling an ambulance, but then decided against it. It didn't seem like the right decision. So he just led Jongin back to his house and sat him down. 

The number of questions he had resting on the tip of his tongue was tremendous, but Jongin didn't look ready to talk, and he wasn't going to push him. If Jongin wanted to talk, he would, so Kyungsoo chose to be patient with him and just let him know that there was someone there for him.

Jongin couldn't explain just how thankful he was for someone like Kyungsoo. He had been prepared for the stampede of questions coming in, but up until now, Kyungsoo hadn't asked a single question. It was just what Jongin needed. He didn't think he was ready to open up just yet.

~~~

Laying awake in bed, Jongin stared up at the ceiling. From the corner of his eye, he could just make out the silhouette of the mirror that always sat there. Broken, dirty, unused, but still there. It was taunting him, he concluded. He hated seeing the mirror there—just the mere knowledge of knowing the mirror was there irked him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to throw it out. It wasn't a gift from anyone. Jongin had just found it in the basement of their old house when his mother had run away, so he believed it was his mother's. Maybe that was why he couldn't throw it away, but then again, that didn't sound right, either. The mirror was staring him down—he could feel it. As if it was urging him to look into it. As if it was telling him to take a look at who was staring back at him. 

He always hated looking at himself in mirrors. In every public washroom, every house, every place that held a mirror, he would cower from his own reflection. Because he'd just be sick with what he saw. Something tainted, used, dirty, broken. Just like the mirror that sat in his room.

God, he really needed to throw that mirror out. 

Kyungsoo had pleaded with him to stay over, but Jongin had refused, saying he could handle himself. But laying awake now, when it was past midnight, he wondered if he did the right thing. 

No, he told himself. He did the right thing. He didn't have to burden Kyungsoo with everything. He couldn't go crying to Kyungsoo over the smallest inconvenience in his life. Kyungsoo had his own life to deal with; he couldn't manage Jongin's on the side. He could handle his problems on his own, without anyone's help. 

He did the right thing, he told himself, over and over again. Yet he still had a feeling of unease in his stomach, squirming around like a bug.

Lulling himself to sleep was a difficult task. Right when his eyelids finally shut, they flew open again. He turned onto his side and faced the wall. In his ribcage, his heart pounded steadily, the rhythm reaching his ears, ticking like a metronome. Or a timer for a bomb, ready to blow. The more he tried to ignore the sound of his heart, the louder it became. His eyelids were weighed down by bricks, but every time they fluttered closed, they'd fly open.

It was an endless loop—a continuous push and pull. 

He couldn't tell what time it was when he finally shut down, but it had to be at least two hours past midnight—two hours of staring at his ceiling. 

He had seen this coming. He knew seeing Jin Ho would've triggered more nightmares. But he couldn't say he was ready for it. 

But this time, Jongin couldn't tell if it was an actual nightmare, or if it was actually happening. Had he been taken back in time? Had he been brought back to suffer all over again? 

Sitting in that chair, everything was vivid. He could count the large pieces of broken glass shards that sat in the corner of the room. The scratch marks that marked the number of days Jongin believed had passed rested just above the bed frame. The air smelt of burnt cigarettes and dirty laundry—of fear and despair. 

The door on the floor creaked open slowly, and bit by bit, the mop of auburn hair was visible. From where he was sitting, Jongin could smell the freshly lit cigarette, burning. As Jin Ho creeped up the stairs, so did the cry for help in Jongin's throat. He could clearly see the hastily buttoned black shirt and the loose jeans barely hanging on Jin Ho's hips, as if he were in a rush.

Every step Jin Ho took, Jongin's vision grew foggier. He blinked, and Jin Ho was closer than before. He blinked again, and Jin Ho was right in front of him.

And soon, the curling of the hands around his throat returned, and naturally, so did his screams. He couldn't hear himself. A shrill white noise sounded in his ears, and his vision grew dark and blurry, until the only thing he could see was the evident look of joy and pleasure in Jin Ho's distant, unfocused eyes. His hands uselessly grappled at the air, desperately trying to grab a hold of something. But just like every other time, the air passed through his fingers and instead, he fell faster. 

_Please, not again_, Jongin thought as the ground opened up and swallowed him whole, pulling him deeper in and drowning him. _Someone please help!_

But no one was responding, and his body dropped through the abyss...

And he startled awake. 

He stared with wide eyes at his ceiling, trying to catch his breath, as if he had just run a marathon. He could feel his black sweater clinging to his torso with dripping sweat. His fist clenched and unclenched, trembling, and his nails dug into his palm as he tried to control the tremor. There was that familiar tight coiling in his stomach, and it churned, until Jongin was shooting up and racing out of his bedroom to the bathroom. 

Diving to his knees in front of the toilet bowl, he ducked his head inside and threw up everything he had consumed the day before. His hands wrapped around the bowl, it being his only leverage, but even the sides of the toilet didn't have anything to curl his fists around. He peered down at his own vomit, feeling the urge to throw up again in disgust. 

On shaking legs, he stood and rinsed his mouth clean. He gazed up at the mirror, into his own eyes, and all he saw was shaking pupils and unshed tears. The dark bruises under his eyes looked darker than usual, but all traces of sleep had abandoned him. He looked sickeningly pale, and the longer he looked at himself, the more his stomach churned. 

Hobbling back to his room on jello legs, he flipped his phone over on his bed to check the time. It was 2:48 AM. Sleep, at the moment, was not an option. He was beginning to grow uncomfortable even in his own room—like the four walls were encasing him and closing in on him. 

Jongin didn't even realize his feet were directing him to the door until he was standing outside, nothing being visible within five feet from his line of vision when it was this dark. He kept walking, away from his house, down the alley, out of the alley, past the convenience store, and then he was running. Running to the only place he knew he could seek comfort in.

~~~

Kyungsoo should've probably been asleep by now. Actually, on any other day, he would've already been in deep sleep, flying away to dreamland at this time, so he really didn't understand why he was still staring up at his ceiling, wide awake. He'd tried changing his positions, but after a while of switching between the same four positions and being unable to find the most comfortable one, he gave up. Instead he tried to put himself to sleep in other ways. He tried every trick in the book—from creating scenarios in his head, trying calming breathing techniques to counting sheep, yet nothing seemed to be working.

At 2:40 AM, he finally called it quits and got out of bed for a glass of water. In one gulp, he chugged the water and set the glass down in the sink. 

He wondered if Jongin had gotten home safely, or if he was sleeping right now. Kyungsoo wasn't sure what had happened because it was all too sudden, but he just hoped Jongin was doing okay. Of course, he had asked him to stay over, but like every time, he declined and left. 

He was ready to head back to his room when he heard something. It was quiet, barely audible, so Kyungsoo didn't think much of it. He was probably hearing things. It _was_ almost three in the morning, and he tried not to think about how dysfunctional he felt from being so exhausted, especially since he hadn't had a wink of sleep yet. But he had school that day and he was still wide awake, which was not a fun situation to be in. So, he concluded that the barely audible thud had just been his imagination. But then he heard it again, this time louder and more firm. There were two raps at the door, then three. Kyungsoo frowned. Who could be at his door at such an ungodly hour? 

For a moment, he contemplated whether or not he should change his clothes to look more presentable. Or the least he could do was throw a jacket over himself so he didn't look like such a mess. Or maybe he could change his pyjama bottoms. Though, in the end, he decided against it. Whoever was at his door chose this time to show up, so they would just have to deal with his unruly look. Besides, he was supposed to be sleeping, so he wouldn't be expected to look good.

But even then, he ran his fingers through his hair to tame his messy locks after probably an hour of just rolling around in bed for the perfect position.

"Who is it?" he called out, though he got no answer. That was to be expected—he didn't think the person behind the door could hear him. He turned the lock of the door and slowly pulled the door open. He was met with the sight of Jongin shifting from foot to foot, trying to regulate his body temperature after running to his apartment in the cold with no jacket. Kyungsoo could barely hide his shock. "Jongin?"

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Jongin said, "H-Hey. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't know where else to go so I just...thought maybe I could sleep with you tonight." After the words left his mouth, though, Jongin suddenly started to wonder if this was a mistake. Without thinking, he'd run all the way here, not even stopping to think about picking up a jacket to sling over himself. Besides, that one time he'd slept over at Kyungsoo's house and had a nightmare, Kyungsoo was able to chase it away like it was nothing, and every time he spent the night, he was able to rest well. So naturally, he'd come all the way here, seeking comfort from him. He hadn't even thought about what time it was. Kyungsoo had probably been sleeping, and he'd just disturbed him.

As Jongin started to regret his decision and was prepared to fabricate a lie excusing himself, Kyungsoo just smiled warmly and opened his door wider. "Of course you can sleep with me tonight. And don't feel bad—I couldn't sleep, either."

That helped ease a bit of Jongin's guilt. He wasn't sure how, but it always seemed like Kyungsoo could read his mind, or sense his emotions. 

Kyungsoo returned under the covers of his bed and held the blanket open, waiting expectedly for Jongin. At the edge of the bed, Jongin shifted again from foot to foot before reluctantly joining Kyungsoo under the covers, leaving a bit of distance between their bodies.

Kyungsoo raised himself up onto his side and laid his head in his hand, his elbow propped up on his pillow. "So? Why couldn't you sleep?"

Hands folded on his chest, Jongin stared up at the ceiling. This was something he always did in his own bedroom when he couldn't sleep–he would stare up at the ceiling and watch the shadows move when he felt too restless to sleep. But here, in Kyungsoo's room, in his bed, it felt different. "I just couldn't. Had a nightmare. What about you?"

Kyungsoo shrugged. "I just couldn't, either. I guess there was something bothering me." He then turned his head to Jongin. "I guess my worry for you kept me up."

Hearing that, Jongin felt heat rise to his cheeks and he looked away. Not that Kyungsoo would be able to see his bright red face in the dark, anyway. And just like every other moment with Kyungsoo, Jongin's insides felt fuzzy, ticklish. A ghost of a smile graced his lips.

Silence fell over them, its only accompaniment being the sound of the chilling wind outside, continuously rattling Kyungsoo's window. But it was comfortable, and while it lasted, Jongin bathed in it.

After about a minute or two, though, Jongin broke it by turning onto his side and facing Kyungsoo. "Hey, Kyungsoo, can I...can I hug you?"

Kyungsoo let the question wash over him before gently smiling and nodding. Just in case Jongin couldn't see him in the dark, he added, "Sure." To make it easier for Jongin, he scooted closer and placed his arm around the latter's waist, pulling him a tad bit closer to him. Their foreheads brushed, and Jongin couldn't help the way his heart stuttered. He was glad for the darkness of the night, or Kyungsoo probably would've seen his smile that threatened to break through. 

Just like that, the sleep Jongin didn't believe would come back hit him all at once and weighed his eyelids down. Sagging against the mattress and melting in Kyungsoo's arms, Jongin yawned as he began to slip away.

He faintly heard Kyungsoo say, "Always tell me if you have nightmares. I'll chase them away for you." 

With the last bit of consciousness Jongin had, he managed a small nod.

The mere thought and fear that Jongin wasn't faring well on his own dissipated, now that he was here with him, and the sleep Kyungsoo had desperately been chasing for hours crashed into him. Unable to hold himself back, he pecked Jongin's forehead and snuggled closer, the steady sound of Jongin's breathing lulling him to sleep.

~~~

Exams had ended just a few days ago. Some students threw their textbooks up in the air in joy, while Jongin caught some other students burning their report cards and their tests from the first and second semesters. 

It was the last day of tenth grade for Jongin, and summer started tomorrow. As for Jin Ho, he was graduating high school in a few days, and he invited Jongin the other day. 

Jongin didn't know what or how it happened, but over the past month, he'd grown closer to Jin Ho–maybe even slightly fond of him. Yes, he caused problems for the teachers, skipped classes, smoked and drank in broad daylight behind the school, and he was rude to all his juniors.

But he was nice to Jongin. He showed him a smile Jongin strongly believed was only reserved for him. He spoke freely around Jongin, and he really felt like he could be himself around him. Jongin had found it shocking how easy it was to open up to Jin Ho about everything—his problems with his father, his mother who left him, how he strived to get good grades so he could regulate his life and move away from his father as quickly as he could. Talking came easily with Jin Ho. For once, Jongin felt heard. Like he wasn't completely alone in this cruel world. 

Without realizing, Jongin had warmed up to the senior, opened his heart and willingly let him in. Their coincidental run-ins behind the school turned into interactions in the halls, which led to interactions outside of school with Jin Ho and his friends. And at some point, it became just the two of them.

When alone with him, Jongin couldn't help but notice even the slightest details about Jin Ho: He ran his fingers through his hair a lot, his eyes crinkled judgementally when he saw couples being sweet to one another on the streets, he didn't like being close with others or being platonically intimate and always flinched away when their hands even accidentally brushed. 

At some point, Jongin think he fell in love. He probably shouldn't have, but he did.

Despite it being the last day, it started off like every other day. The sun beat down on them and everyone had long since stripped off their uniform jackets. But something made the day different from every other day.

As Jongin began packing his bags, the class door burst open, and everyone, Jongin included, turned their heads to see who was there. It was Jin Ho, leaning against the frame of the door. He had an unlit cigarette sitting in between his lips. Some students whispered about how he could just wander the halls with his cigarettes in plain sight for the teachers to see. That was the kind of person Jin Ho was, though. He didn't care about the teachers catching him through the security cameras on the ceiling of the halls. 

Locking eyes with Jongin, Jin Ho waved him over. When Jongin still sat there questioningly, Jin Ho sighed and sauntered in. The remaining students in the class all cleared the way for him, and when Jin Ho was in front of him, he grabbed Jongin's wrist and tugged him out of his seat before proceeding to drag him out of the class.

He ignored every single one of Jongin's questions about where they were headed until they were behind the school. Finally letting go of Jongin's wrist, Jin Ho let the cigarette drop from his mouth. 

"Why did you drag me out here?" Jongin asked.

There was a beat of silence before Jin Ho said, "Go out with me."

Jongin realized, right then, just how easy it was to make his heart stutter. He let his words sink in before muttering out an unintelligent, "H-Huh?"

Jin Ho sighed, somewhat annoyed at having to repeat himself. "I said, go out with me."

Jongin didn't know those four words could get him so worked up, so warm and excited. His heart felt fuzzy and there was a tingling in the pit of his stomach. If Jin Ho hadn't pointed it out, he wouldn't have realized he was grinning from ear-to-ear. 

"Well? Is that a yes or a no?"

Unable to form a coherent sentence, Jongin just nodded vigorously. 

Jin Ho just smirked and stepped closer. Time seemed to stop for Jongin when Jin Ho bent down. His lips were chapped, and all Jongin could taste was cigarettes, but his heart still halted in his chest. All too soon, Jin Ho was pulling away, almost like someone had burnt him.

It was Jongin's first kiss.

He felt stupid for how widely he was smiling, but he couldn't help himself. Jin Ho fished out a cigarette pack from his back pocket and placed one in his mouth before looking through his pocket again for his lighter. 

"See you at my graduation," Jin Ho said nonchalantly before walking off, as if he hadn't just asked Jongin out or just stolen his first kiss. Jongin wondered how he could stay so calm when he himself was about to fly off the ground in joy. Perhaps it came with the maturity of being eighteen, Jongin thought. 

He wondered how he couldn't see all the red flags that were being held up in front of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who are still here with me and this story, I'm really sorry I'm updating late :( I'll try to update sooner in the upcoming weeks because I think my online classes are ending soon


	21. Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be a messy read because I didn't read it over to make sure there were no grammatical errors like I normally do with my chapters, but please bear with me.

Okay, guys, I know I disappeared for a really long time without any updates on my whereabouts and what I was doing. So, I’m here to fill you guys in on everything, and I humbly apologize for everything in advance.

First of all, I want to start by apologizing for my slow updates, and many people tried to encourage me, telling me that it was okay and I had to make myself a priority before the story, which touched my heart. It also increased the guilt because I couldn’t repay you guys in any way, and I always kept you waiting. I always tried to update this story as soon as I possibly could, but with my homework piling up on itself, it weighed me down, and therefore, I couldn’t direct my attention to the story. It also didn’t help that I constantly had writer’s block, and it always stuck with me for every single chapter I wrote. I never knew how to word my story, or how to keep it interesting, or what kind of events should take place in those certain chapters. The whole story began feeling like a filler at that point. My goal for each chapter was always to hit a minimum of 2 500 words, and normally, writing that is a piece of cake, but because I had no idea what to write, words didn’t come easily to me, and it took me around a month for each update, not to mention the lack of motivation I had to open a page for the next chapter.

With that being said, I want to apologize again. And again. Because I thought about it a lot, and while I was writing other stories in June and throughout July, I continued to think about it. And I brought up the problem that I was having with this story to my friend, and she gave me a suggestion. At first, I told her there was no way I’d do that, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was the best solution for me because really, I’ve hit rock bottom. I don’t know how to continue anymore. 

So, with much difficulty, I’ve decided to discontinue this story. And typing this out pained me so much because I didn’t want to do this, to myself and those who looked forward to my updates. I had so many wonderful ideas for this story that I couldn’t wait to write out, and I remember when I first started writing this, I told myself that there was no way I’d lose interest in this story and discontinue it. But now here I am, regrettably writing this. Someone the other day began reading this story, and they left a certain comment on my story that really tore my heart and almost brought me to tears. They said that they really hoped this story wouldn’t end, and this was when I was debating on whether or not I should discontinue the story. 

And frankly, I’ve felt very distant from EXO since the start of this year. I realized that I started falling out with them, and the thought hurts because I’ve wanted to be there for them for years and years. I realized that I was growing distant a few months ago, but I refused to acknowledge it. The truth always surfaces and makes itself known, though, because it can never be suppressed for long.

At first, writing this story was the highlight of my days, and it brought me great joy to publish new chapters and see the lovely comments you guys always left. They never failed to brighten my day, even if the comment was short. But lately, my updates have taken longer, they’re lacking. I don’t know when it happened, but at some point, this story was no longer a blessing for me to write, but an anchor that kept me rooted in place, unwilling to let me move on. It tied me down, and instead, I felt like a prisoner. Writing fanfictions was something I did leisurely—it was my favourite pastime—but instead of writing this story because I wanted to, I wrote it because I felt obligated to. 

I don’t know if there are people who still read this story, but for those who do and have waited for updates, I’m sorry I came back after over two months just to drop this bomb on you.

But I wanted to give this story proper closure because I started it, so I should tie the thread instead of leaving it to dangle in mid-air. So, I’ll explain everything that was supposed to happen in this story, so that none of you are confused and you’re not left with unanswered questions. 

I’ll start with Park Jin Ho.

I’m sure everyone has pieced together that the man with auburn hair that Jongin keeps seeing and is fearful of is Park Jin Ho, the man he began dating at the end of grade 10. Jongin blindly falls for Jin Ho, believing that Jin Ho mirrors the love he has for him. Jin Ho worms his way into Jongin’s heart using certain tactics, like sweet-talking to him, treating him kindly (in the beginning), and pretending as if he cares for Jongin and the rough situation he is in with his alcoholic father. 

In reality, though, Jin Ho just sees him as an easy target. And as their relationship further developed, Jin Ho becomes a bit more aggressive, losing his sweet exterior and revealing the man he truly is underneath. He is forceful with Jongin, yelling at him if he ever tries to go against Jin Ho’s wishes. There is even a moment when Jin Ho attempts to take Jongin’s virginity, but Jongin, in fear, locks himself in the bathroom. Even then, he doesn’t realize Jin Ho is taking advantage of him. 

He never liked Jongin, never would, but Jongin never realizes that until a certain night. At Jin Ho’s house, Jongin joins him and his group of friends for a game night. The air is too stifling, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes and weed mixing, and Jongin feels unease creeping up his skin. When it all becomes too much, he excuses himself to the bathroom for a breather. As he is returning, he overhears Jin Ho talking with his friends and hears him admit to his friends his true intentions when he asked Jongin out. Jongin can’t believe his ears and leaves the game night early before crying at home. 

A few days later (their relationship continued into Jongin’s first semester of grade 11), Jin Ho comes to pick Jongin up from school, unaware that Jongin knows of his true intentions. When he runs into Jongin, the latter confesses to him that he knows everything—that Jin Ho doesn’t truly like him, and he is just a plaything for him—and he says he wants to break up. However, Jin Ho isn’t right in the head, he never was, so he grows enraged, claiming that Jongin is his property, and he belongs solely to him. Hearing that, Jongin becomes upset because he belongs to no one but himself. He attempts to sidestep Jin Ho and ignore him, but Jin Ho grabs him and throws him into a wall, knocking him out.

Jongin later finds himself awakening in a dark room, a beer bottle smashed in the corner, and no door to the room in sight. Just then, a door on the floor that Jongin hadn’t spotted opens, and Jin Ho creeps in, eyes blown from the use of drugs, and he reeks of alcohol. Jongin cowers, tries to hide, but he’s immediately jumped on.

This is where Jin Ho r*pes him. 

One day, Jongin finds his phone sitting in the room, so he tries to call the police, but he’s trembling, and afraid, and he doesn’t hear Jin Ho approaching until the phone is snatched out of his hand and smashed to pieces. Jin Ho then attempts to kill Jongin by strangling him, claiming that Jongin is supposed to love him. His murder attempt fails, and the police soon show up at the house. 

Jin Ho disappears without a trace, and the police desperately try to capture him while Jongin lies in the hospital. A few chapters back, I introduced a detective who was called detective Jung. This was the detective who had interrogated Jongin during his time in the hospital as he recovered physically but not yet mentally. 

Really, I can’t write out everything that happens next because that isn’t the point of this. I just really want to apologize, yet again, for being a shitty writer and leaving this story when I promised myself I’d stick by it until the end. There were many people encouraging me, telling me that they hoped this story never ended because they couldn’t wait to see more of it, and thinking about those sweet comments while typing this out really hurt.

And for the last time, I apologize that I couldn’t deliver the full story many of you had been waiting for.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, to those who read this story and enjoyed it and looked forward to it, I humbly apologize.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not particularly new to writing stories but this is my first time on ao3 so hello. I am a big bottom Jongin enthusiast and don't see Jongin as anything else but a bottom and I love Kaisoo so much. You can also find me on AFF and Wattpad under the same username.


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